


Behind The Camera

by fionasank



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Banter, Comedy, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Forbidden Love, M/M, Mild Smut, Minor Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson, Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romantic Comedy, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-05-29 23:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 63,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6398806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fionasank/pseuds/fionasank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is hired as a writer for the hit show 'The Avengers'. Steve plays the character of 'Captain America'. The network forbids employee relationships. This is a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I know nothing about the TV production/writing business. I also know nothing about America. But I try very hard.

When Bucky got the call that he’d got the staff writer job, the first thing he did was run through and tell Nat, who replied, “Wait. What’s _The Avengers_?”

Bucky screwed up his face in disbelief, trying not to jump up and down with joy, bobbing up and down like a video game character. “Are you serious? It’s like, the new hit sitcom about all these superheroes who have to live together. It’s gonna be the next _Friends._ You _must_ have seen all those posters on the subway.”

Nat thinks for a second before her eyes widen. “The ones with the hot blonde guy and the robot?”

“YEAH!”

“Oh my god!”

They celebrate with a bottle of wine (champagne is overrated, and overpriced). Bucky goes to sleep with a smile on his face and dreams that he’s flying.

* * *

 

The first script for season two arrives in the mail a week before filming. They’d hired three new writers for this season, Steve had heard, because season two was going to be 24 episodes, not 12. Meaning they’d hit the big time, ratings wise. Steve wasn’t surprised; _The Avengers_ was, in his opinion, the best show on air right now.

Steve opens the script, leaning against his kitchen counter. He scans the first few lines of his character description.

‘ _Cap wears modern clothes; sneakers, a hoodie and a baseball cap. Clearly he has adapted to 2016 since season one – no more grandpa clothes. Ever!’_

A huge grin breaks out on Steve’s face. Whoever wrote that… he has to meet them.

* * *

LA is a terrifying place. But television studios are magical. At least, they are to Bucky as he walks into Stark Studios for the first day of filming. He has an ID card and everything. They didn’t even call security on him! 

Bucky finds his way to the set after asking seven people for directions. “You’ll know it when you see it” is not a direction, but people keep saying that to him. Eventually he gives up and says to the seventh person, “Can you just take me there?”

He knows it when he sees it. A pretty average looking apartment with only three walls. And a group of superheroes standing around, listening to a guy with an eyepatch.

“Thanks,” Bucky says to helper number seven, before walking over to the superhero squad in a daze. Sure, meeting the writers behind the show was hype, but the actors? There was Iron Man! And Black Widow, and Falcon! In real life! Of course, the actors had names too, but Bucky hadn’t got around to learning those yet.

“James!” he hears. The director with the eyepatch is beckoning him over, and all of the actors are looking right at him. Bucky swallows, and walks over. He’s not used to being this nervous. He’s never this nervous. But he’s never had a job this good before.

“James, since you contributed to this episode, you get to sit in on the filming. We’re starting in five. Oh, and Steve? This is the guy who wrote that thing.” And then he just walks away, leaving Bucky with arguably the five most famous people on American television right now. Nick Fury’s a talented director but he’s not the warmest log on the fire.

Bucky turns to the actors. Four of them have already wandered off, including the infamous Tony Stark, the only billionaire ever to create a TV studio and cast himself as the lead of all the shows. It’s kind of a super-villain move, but he’s so talented and charismatic, the whole country loves him anyway. Plus, the cute story about how he fell in love with his personal assistant and made her CEO of his company is classic rom-com material. (The movie is actually in the works – a Stark Studios production.) 

The only actor still standing in front of him was the one Fury was talking to, the one he’d called Steve. The one who’s staring at Bucky right now.

And Bucky stares right back. The camera does not do this guy justice. Over six foot with the bluest eyes and broadest shoulders Bucky’s ever seen, the guy who plays ‘Cap’ is fucking _gorgeous_. He’s got his costume on, blue with white and red stripes like the American flag, and Bucky thinks, _God bless America, indeed._  

“Hey, I’m Steve,” says Steve, putting out his hand for Bucky to shake.

“I’m Bucky,” Bucky says, taking it. 

Steve frowns. “But Nick just called you James.”

“Oh yeah. Uh, Bucky’s a nickname. S’what all my friends call me.”

Steve just nods. “So, you wrote that Cap should start wearing more modern clothes?”

“Yeah, that was me.”

“Can I ask why?” 

Bucky thinks for a second, trying not to jump to the conclusion that this guy hates everything he’s ever written. “Well, in all the flashbacks to world war two, Cap’s pretty up to date with the times. He’s got all the latest gear, he’s into the modern music and dancing and drinking. I figure, if all that stuff got changed, he’d accept it. If he could change from scratchy, ill-fitting clothes to comfortable modern ones he would. He’s a tough guy. I think he’s done living in the past.”

Steve looks at Bucky for a few seconds before breaking into a huge smile and clapping Bucky on the shoulder. “I totally agree,” Steve says, and Bucky breathes a huge internal sigh of relief. “I think he needed a bit of mourning time but he’s ready to get started on his new life.”

“Yeah, exactly. I’m glad you agree. I’m excited to see the character move in different directions.” 

Steve just nods, smiling a little. In the semi-darkness behind the bright lights of the set, his facial expression is hard to make out. “So, what do you think of the show?”

“I love it,” Bucky says, trying to stop the crazy fan inside him from gushing uncontrollably. “I mean, that plot twist in the finale where it turns out Loki is alive? Blew my mind. And god, I loved that flashback scene with Cap saying goodbye to Agent Carter over the radio. I thought you were amazing in that.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. That scene was the one that made me really excited to work here.”

Another smile appears on Steve’s face, and it’s charming as hell. “That’s real nice of you to say.” Then, much to Bucky’s surprise, Steve points two finger guns at him and says, “Always nice to meet a fan.”

Bucky snorts, and Steve laughs before he’s called to start filming. Bucky watches with the other writers, watches Steve punch the air in front of villains’ faces and stand heroically with his hands on his hips, and he can’t believe he just snorted in front of the guy whose face he stared at on the subway every day for the last year.

* * *

Bucky wakes up the next day to Natasha poking him in the stomach and waving his ringing cell phone in front of his face. “It’s your work, wake up,” she says, and starts flicking him on the forehead.

“Alright!” Bucky reaches for the phone and hits the green bubble, aiming a kick at Nat, who dodges out of the way. “Hello?”

“James, it’s Sharon from HR. We’ve got one last contract for you to sign. Do you think you could come in a half hour early today?”

“Sure, of course,” Bucky mumbles, sitting up and running his hand through his hair. “No problem.” _I just won’t shower_ , he thinks but doesn’t say.

After hanging up he wanders through to the kitchen where Nat is putting some bread in the toaster and humming tunelessly. “Anything important?” she asks him, taking the orange juice from the fridge. She holds it up to him and raises her eyebrows and he nods, so she pours two glasses.

“Nah, just need to get in a half hour early.”

She slides his glass towards him. “So tell me about your first day!”

 “I don’t really have time, I have to get dressed. I would have told you about it last night if you hadn’t been out until three in the morning.” He looks at her with fake disapproval.

“Alright, dad. Tell me about it tonight. Clint cancelled on me so I’m free for Netflix and too many nachos.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“Just tell me one thing.”

“Mm?”

“Did you meet the guy that plays Falcon?”

Bucky smirks. “You got a bit of a crush there?”

Nat smirks right back. “Maybe. You know I’m not getting anywhere with Clint. I have needs.”

Bucky downs his orange juice and says, “I’ll find out if he’s single. No promises though.”

“Except the promise to find out if he’s single.”

“Except that one.”

“You’re the best roommate ever.”

“Liar.”

* * *

After getting dressed and spraying on too much deodorant, Bucky heads into Stark Studios. For the second day of filming, he doesn’t even need to ask anyone for directions. Well, only one person. That’s the same as none when it’s your second day.

He heads up to HR to find Sharon’s door open. He knocks on it anyway, and she looks up and smiles when she sees him. “James, hi. Come in, sit down.”

Bucky enters and shuts the door behind him before sitting. “Hi, Sharon.”

“This won’t take long, just a few more things to go over with you. Are you familiar with the station’s policy on relationships between coworkers?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.” Sharon looks a little embarrassed; Bucky settles in his seat because it looks like he’s in for a good story. “Basically, a few years ago the station came under fire by quite a few law suits because Mr Stark was… sleeping around with some lower level employees. There were sexual harassment suits claiming that because he was more senior in the company, these women felt that he had taken advantage of them. Honestly, it was kind of a blessing to the company when he settled down with Pepper…” She clears her throat. “Anyway. To settle the suits, the station created a rule where employees on different levels are forbidden from having romantic relationships of any kind.”

“What do you mean by different levels?”

“Well, for example, you being a writer, dating other writers is okay. But dating any of your bosses, you can’t do. Or anyone below you, like the actors.”

“The actors are below me?”

“Well, technically, because you tell them what to say and do, yeah. So they’re off limits too.”

Bucky nods. “Is there anything else?”

“Apart from the fact that if you break this rule, you and whoever you’re sleeping with will be fired, no, nothing else.”

“Fired? That’s a bit intense, isn’t it?”

Sharon gives him a straight-lipped smile. “It was the only way to settle the suit. That, and forty million dollars.” She picks up a piece of paper and places it in front of Bucky. “Just sign there at the bottom if you agree to those conditions.”

Bucky picks up the pen and signs without a thought.

* * *

Turns out, maybe he should have thought about it.

Lunch is at 12. The cafeteria is huge and consists solely of vending machines, dealing out pizza and pasta and salad and saying “thank you for your business” in a posh English accent. Bucky gets a tuna salad sandwich and some chips and sits down at a table by himself, pulling the spec script for episode two out of his bag and flicking through it so he doesn’t look like a loner.

Then a tray plops down opposite him and he looks up to see a white t-shirt, filled to the brim with ridiculous muscles and topped off with Steve’s smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Bucky says. “What’s up?”

“Thought you looked like a loner.”

“Thanks,” Bucky says sarcastically.

“You’re welcome. Although, if you’re gonna snort again, I might have to move.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Sorry. I was nervous. First day and all.”

“Nah, don’t be sorry. I thought it was funny. Don’t be nervous either. The people here, they’re good people.”

“Good to know.”

Steve starts in on his salad, which is loaded with so many croutons it should be illegal to call it salad and not ‘bread with lettuce’. Bucky figures the guy knows what he’s doing diet wise though; it looks like his body fat is minus five percent.

“So where are you from?” Steve asks Bucky in between mouthfuls. Bucky notices a difference in his tone from yesterday; it’s quieter, softer. Less like his character. Maybe because less people are watching. Maybe because he’s not in his costume.

“Brooklyn,” Bucky answers. “Moved to LA about a year ago, been working on a few shows here and there. This is the first actual job I’ve got in a while. It’s kind of like being an actor; a few small gigs here and there before you’re a series regular.”

Steve makes an amused noise before swallowing. “I never knew that about writers.”

“Where are _you_ from?”

“Also Brooklyn, funnily enough.”

“No kidding.” 

“Yeah, don't ask me about the city though."

"Why not?"

"I know nothing about it. I spent all my time in hospital as a kid. I was one of those sick kids, with asthma and a thousand allergies.”

“You would not know that from looking at you,” Bucky says, knowing he’s got no chill but not being able to do anything about it.

 “I guess. Still can’t run for more than ten minutes though.”

“Neither can I.” 

Steve laughs. There’s a brief silence between them, and Bucky looks around the cafeteria, sees a table full of the actors all laughing together. Bucky’s learned their names now. There’s Tony Stark, of course, who’s always wearing his Iron Man costume even on breaks. Natalia Romanova, who looks freakishly like Natasha. Bruce Banner, the only person who’s not deep in conversation, instead looking his phone and glancing up from time to time.

And there’s Sam Wilson, Nat’s crush. Bucky has to admit, he’s hot. He’s about to ask Steve about Sam when he realises there’s an empty seat at the table where Steve would usually be sitting. But he’s sat with Bucky instead. Instantly guilt fills him.

“Hey, Steve. You don’t have to sit here if you wanna go sit with your friends.” It’s a very high-school thing to say, but Bucky feels bad dragging Steve from the action.

Steve just looks at Bucky with a frown and a smile. “Dude. I thought you were my friend, too.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yeah. Unless you don’t wanna be my friend…?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Are you kidding? Who doesn’t wanna be friends with Captain America?”

Steve just shakes his head.

“Hey,” Bucky continues, more at ease. “This is gonna sound random, but do you know Sam’s deal?”

“His deal?”

“Like, is he single?”

A strange look comes over Steve’s face. “Oh. Uh, yeah, I think so. Are you – do you – do you want me to like, introduce you? Do you want me to like – I dunno, like, say something to him, or talk to him for you, or…” He trails off.

Bucky almost laughs. “My roommate is into him. Is that a problem?”

Steve visibly relaxes, lowering about six inches in his seat and exhaling longer than should be possible for someone with asthma. “No, that’s fine. I can text you his number if you like.”

“Well, you don’t have _my_ number.”

“Oh, yeah.” Steve unlocks his phone and passes it to Bucky so he can put his number in. “Yeah,” he says again, to himself.

While Bucky has this excuse not to make eye contact, he says, “You’re not as cool as you seem, are you?”

Steve laughs. “No. Not nearly.”

Bucky hands back the phone, grinning. “Good.”

* * *

It’s six hours later that the crew is packing up and Bucky is taking whatever he can sneak from the Kraft table, and he hears a voice right behind him go, “Why do you smell like a teenager?”

Bucky spins around, clutching four doughnuts to his chest. Steve is looking at him, hands on his star-spangled hips, shield on his back.

“I didn’t have time for a shower,” Bucky admits.

“You use Axe deodorant?”

“My mom gets me it for Christmas. I would just not use it, but deodorant is expensive. Writers are all poor, you know.”

Steve smiles and folds his arms across his chest. “Hey, I was thinking about asking you out.”

Bucky tries so hard not to drop the food that he squishes it against his body. He can feel jam oozing through his shirt. “Uh.”

“I mean, I’m just asking if you’d be cool with me doing that sometime.”

“No,” Bucky blurts.

Steve opens and closes his mouth a few times before saying, “Okay.”

“I don’t mean like – I mean – I want you to ask me out.”

“Oh.”

“I just can’t go out with you.”

“Oh?”

“Because of the rule.”

“Rule?”

“There’s that rule against writers and actors dating.”

Steve frowns. “That’s a thing?”

“Yeah. HR told me about it this morning. They didn’t tell you?”

“They said you can’t date your superiors or employees. Are you my employee?”

Bucky rolls his eyes at the assumption. “Actually, you’re kind of mine.”

“I’m kind of yours?”

“I’m a higher level than you in the company cos technically I tell you what to do. So, if we date, we both get fired.”

Steve uncrosses his arms and puts his hands in his pockets. Then he crosses his arms again. “Oh.”

“We can still be friends though.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Steve shakes his head a little. “Yeah. I’d like that. Sorry about – that.”

“Don’t apologise.” He pauses before saying, “I would have said yes, so you know.”

Steve grins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Bucky smiles back.

“Good.” Steve nods once. “Good. Okay. See you tomorrow?” he asks, starting to walk backwards towards the exit.

“Yeah. Bye, Steve.”

“Bye, Bucky.” Steve flashes one more smile before leaving. Bucky picks up two more doughnuts.

* * *

 

When he gets back to his apartment, Nat is making dinner for maybe the first time in a year. Bucky starts laughing when he sees it, closing the door behind him and putting his keys in the bowl.

“What?” Nat asks, looking at him with fake innocence, stirring what looks like chilli. It _would_ be chilli – possibly the easiest thing to make in the world, providing you use a jar of sauce. There’s an empty one on the counter. Cooking doesn’t come easily to either of them, that’s why they work so well as roommates – no judging, and someone to go Dutch on pizza with.

“Nothing, nothing.” Bucky sits on the counter beside her. “I just think it’s funny that you’re trying to bribe me _after_ I’ve done what you wanted me to do.”

Nat’s face lights up. “You asked already?”

“I got his number from Steve. You want it?”

Nat sighs. “Bucky, I can’t just text him randomly. He’s famous, he’s gonna think I’m a crazy fan.”

“You _are_ a crazy fan.”

“Crazy fan of his abs. Not that kids show.”

Bucky kicks her lightly. “Hey. It’s not a kids show. It’s just about superheroes.”

“I know, I know.”

“So what _do_ you want me to do?”

“Just… bring me to the set one day. Like a tour. Introduce me to some people. I’ve already thought of a killer opening line.” She takes the chilli off the hob and Bucky jumps off the counter to grab some plates.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna say, _I’m a black belt in jujitsu and I want you to know that your fighting form on the show is terrible._ ”

Bucky laughs. “Is that true?”

“Oh, yeah. When I walked in on you watching that show before, his stance was all over the place.”

“Huh. Maybe that’s actually something you should talk to him about.”

Nat grins as they sit down to eat. “See? He needs me.” After a pause where they eat in silence, Nat says, “So, who’s Steve?”

Bucky swallows slowly and looks up. “What?”

“Steve. Who is he?”

“How do you know about – that’s nothing. How did you-”

Nat smirks. “You said his name before. The guy who gave you Sam’s number. Who is he?”

Bucky exhales a little in relief. For some reason, Steve feels like a secret he has to keep. But they’re just friends. “He’s one of the actors I’m friends with.”

Nat raises her eyebrows. “A friend already? That’s unlike you.”

“Ha ha.”

“Who does he play?”

“Captain America.”

Nat’s eyes widen and she hurries to finish her mouthful. “That guy on the posters? Oh my _god,_ Bucky.”

“What?” Bucky replies, the picture of innocence.

“He’s like, a _god._ ”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Nat looks like she wants to slap him upside the head. “Come on! He’s gorgeous.”

“We’re just friends.” Before Nat can say anything else, he continues, “There’s a rule against coworkers dating, so it’s not gonna happen, anyway.”

“Oh.” Natasha slumps in disappointment, always overly-invested in Bucky’s love life. “What would happen if you dated, then?”

“Fired.”

“Oh.”

They eat in silence until they’re finished. Bucky stands to take the dishes to the sink when Nat turns around and says, “Doesn’t that make it better though?”

"What?"

"It’s forbidden.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “It’s _wrong._ ”

“Fuck off,” Bucky says, maybe too serious for the situation, before retreating to his room. He’s sure he’ll regret that later, have to make it up to Natasha by making some half-assed dinner himself.

But he couldn’t help it. She’d hit a nerve. Because he knew, he knew that it was forbidden, wrong. And it was killing him.

If the jam stain on his shirt was anything to go by, he wanted Steve. He wanted Steve _bad_.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This is gonna be super long, like 50k at least, and I've got the next chapter written already, so that should be up in the next couple of days.
> 
> I would be very grateful for kudos/ comments, as this is my first Steve/Bucky fic and also my first fic in like two years. I need love.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, his third day on set, Bucky gets to work for 9. He grabs a banana from the cafeteria and heads up to the writer’s room. Every day before the shooting starts, the writers gather around a big circular desk and talk about their plans for the season. It’s usually brief, only takes about five minutes; they hammer out real plans and details in their official meetings on Fridays.

The head writer, Peggy Carter, is the most amazing person Bucky has ever worked for. She’s organised, on the ball, and doesn’t take any shit from anyone. One of the writers suggested a sexist storyline a few days back and it looked like she was literally holding herself back from punching him in the face.

Peggy wipes some stuff off the whiteboard from the previous meeting (talking about whether Steve would be more of a Nike or Adidas kind of man – they all agreed with Bucky in the end that Steve would not give a fuck) and turns to the writers, doing up the button on her blazer. Another thing about Peggy – she dresses very well. Pant suits and tailored skirts and red lipstick.

“Alright,” she says in her English accent. “Today’s conundrum. We’re introducing the Winter Soldier today. We teased her in the trailer, and we got the fans excited, so now we have to deliver. The script says we introduce her by having her come and save Cap’s life. Now, Rumlow, I like that idea,” she says, nodding to Rumlow, who happens to be the douche who came up with the sexist plot, “but we’ve done it before. Black Widow saved Falcon’s life back in episode three. The ‘badass female who can keep up with the guys’ character is a bit troped, so I’m looking for other suggestions on how to introduce the character. Bearing in mind, we’re looking for her to be a love interest for Cap further down the line.”

There’s silence for a few seconds as people think. Then Rumlow says, “I stand by my idea. I think Cap needs someone who’ll fight along side him.”

“He already has people fighting along side him, that’s what the whole show’s about,” someone says, and Bucky laughs along with a few others.

“Maybe she should play hard to get?” Rumlow offers. “Maybe Cap needs someone who will challenge him?”

“That last part’s definitely true, but we’re looking at a proper emotional connection here, not mind games,” says Peggy. She thinks for a second before looking to Bucky. “James, you know Cap pretty well, judging by your writing for this episode. What do you think about this scene?”

All eyes are on Bucky. He gulps, never liking to be the centre of attention. Then he speaks slowly, “I don’t think it should be about what Cap needs. I don’t think it should be about him at all. I think the Winter Soldier is a character in her own right, that we shouldn’t think about her impact on Cap but her impact on the audience.” He hesitates a bit before continuing, but Peggy nods for him to keep going. And Rumlow is glaring, so he must be doing something right. “I think we need a hero who’s vulnerable. They’re all so headstrong, they’re all such natural leaders. When I think of the Winter Soldier, I picture her as being scared. Like, scared of death, scared of failing, going into every fight a little bit terrified. Her character turns out to be one of the most logical, with her sniper rifles and her vantage points. I say, let’s use that. Let’s give her a reason to be so logical. Because she’s so scared.”

“Why would she be scared?” Rumlow scoffs. “If she’s got a metal arm, why would she be scared of anything?”

Bucky thinks for a second, but Peggy answers. “Because she’s human. We’ve got a super soldier, an alien, a guy who’s in a basically impenetrable suit of armour, a guy who can fly, and a woman who’s been trained since she was a child. The Winter Soldier was forced into this life. Arguably, she’s the most human of all of them. But that still doesn’t give us an opening scene.”

An idea comes to Bucky, but it’s silly. _The Avengers_ is a sitcom, but it’s situational comedy. They never venture into the problems of everyday life.

Peggy sees Bucky hesitate and says, “James?" 

“I was just thinking…” He decides that he likes his idea, so he goes for it. “What if Iron Man puts an ad in the paper for a new Avenger. Like, as a joke.”

“Very appropriate for his character,” Peggy says. “Arrogant and not funny.”

“Right. So, the Winter Soldier sees this, and she knows it’s a joke, but she’s struggling to pay rent. So she thinks if she showed up pretending like she didn’t know it was a joke, they’d have to at least listen to what she had to say. So she shows up and demonstrates all of her skills, and they end up taking her. And then her and Cap get to talking, and she tells him that she’s scared of going on missions, and fighting again, but she’s also scared of ending up homeless because she can’t get a job. I think not enough characters have been talking about their emotions. I think it would be refreshing to have something like that on the show.”

Peggy just stares at him. After a few moments he starts to feel like an idiot. Eventually she says, “That would mean rewriting almost the whole episode.”

Bucky starts to say that of course it’s a dumb idea, they have to film this part of the episode _tomorrow_ and they can’t change the script now. But then Peggy says, “Get on it, then.”

“What?” says Bucky in disbelief.

“What?” says Rumlow, also in disbelief. 

“Get on it, Barnes.” Peggy gets her phone out of her pocket and starts shooting off emails. “Need those scenes by tomorrow if we’re going to make it work. Try not to change any locations. Avengers Tower alone, if you can, because that’s already set up.”

Bucky just sits there staring at her.

“You can use my office. Don’t worry about being on set today, none of your scenes are being filmed anyway.” She looks up from her phone. “Go!”

The other writers get up, and Peggy leaves the room. Bucky is still sitting there, completely stunned. Did the head writer just like his idea so much she gave him _four scenes_?

Four scenes. By tomorrow.

He heads into Peggy’s office, sits down at her desk, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. He pulls his laptop out of his bag and sees that Peggy has just sent him an email with the ‘finished’ script attached. He opens the document, deletes scenes five through nine, and starts typing.

* * *

It’s around two when Steve comes in.

It’s kind of hard to look at him. First of all, he looks so good. They’d just been filming a fight scene so Steve has a cut across his cheek and messy hair, which turns Bucky on more than he’d like to admit. Second of all, Bucky had been thinking about him all night.

After his little talk with Natasha, Bucky had started to think about his situation. He’s always been an over-thinker, always a little obsessive about the what-ifs and what it could all mean. For hours Bucky had lay in bed thinking about Steve asking him out. It had only been two days that they’d known each other, only one day that they’d really been friends, and Steve was already asking him out? Was that what confident people did? Or did Steve feel the same connection Bucky did? These were his main two thoughts as sleep evaded him, and then interrupted him.

Steve knocks, even though the door is open, smiling at Bucky with two coffees and two sandwiches cradled in one arm. Bucky looks up, smiles back at Steve while he finished the sentence he was typing, and then closes his laptop. “Hey.”

“Hey, Buck. Heard you were in here.”

A new nickname. A nickname of a nickname. It’s the most Steve thing he’s ever heard.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. Some guy Rumlow was bitching about you.” 

Bucky laughs. “Good.”

“Can I sit down?”

Bucky almost laughs again at the formality, but then it makes him a little sad. Does Steve think that because they can’t date, he has to keep his distance? “Yeah, sure, it’s not my office.”

Steve sits down opposite Bucky, putting the coffees and the sandwiches on the desk. “Does she not need to use her office?”

“She’s been in and out all day. She says she mostly uses it on Fridays when we do most of the writing." 

Steve nods, then slides a sandwich and a coffee towards Bucky. “Thought you could use lunch." 

Bucky wants to refuse, because it’s too kind, but his stomach is growling. Besides, the coffee would just go cold if he didn’t drink it, and no writer in history has ever passed up coffee while on a deadline. “Thanks, you didn’t have to.”

Steve shrugs, like it’s no big deal, but Bucky can tell he’s happy when Bucky makes satisfied noises biting into the sandwich.

“So tell me about these big scenes you’re writing. Giving me a lot of lines?” Steve jokes, opening his own sandwich. 

“Actually, yeah. Did they tell you about your new love interest?” 

“Yeah. An assassin, right?” 

“Reformed assassin.”

Steve laughs with his mouth full, and it’s gross but adorable. “That sounds like she’s sobered up or something. Like she went to Assassins Anonymous.”

“You’re such a nerd,” says Bucky, because he likes it. He likes when Steve isn’t trying to impress him, when his real self comes out like this. When they’re alone. (He tells himself this is the only reason he likes it when they’re alone. He doesn’t believe himself for a second.)

Steve just nods. “Don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

Bucky smiles at him, finishing off the first half of his sandwich. He’s beyond glad that things aren’t weird now, that there isn’t a strange dynamic now that Steve has asked him out and Bucky had to say no. Bucky hopes he hasn’t hurt Steve’s feelings – he told him he would have said yes if the rule didn’t exist, and he hopes that’s enough to convince Steve that he really does want to be his friend. Because, _god,_ he really would have said yes. He might even have been the one doing the asking if he hadn’t had the meeting with HR that very morning. But he’s a rule-follower. Plays it safe. Being with Steve would be a risk.

Fuck. Thinking about Steve as a risk has him thinking about how it would be forbidden, how they would have to sneak around, cover each others’ mouths during sex so no one can hear their screams…

“So the Winter Soldier comes in in this episode?”

Bucky looks up. He can _feel_ that his eyes are unfocused and glazed over, so blinks a few times. “Huh? Yeah. That’s what I’m writing.” 

“Tell me about what you’re writing.” 

Bucky does. They talk about the vulnerability of the character and how Bucky wants her to exist in her own right and not just for Cap’s benefit, and Steve agrees wholeheartedly, even suggesting some ideas about her backstory that Bucky makes a note of. Bucky has to hand it to him, Steve cares about this show, enough to pay attention to every little detail, comparing the Winter Soldier’s arc to Cap’s own.

“I mean, it’s like, backwards, you know?” Steve says, throwing the cardboard from his sandwich in the trash can across the room. Bucky tries to mask his amazement at this shot. “Cap was this unhappy kid who couldn’t fight in the war, and now he’s happy and powerful. And from what you’ve said, the Winter Soldier was a perfectly happy person up until her teens, where she was forced into this life she hates. It’s like, backwards.”

Bucky is nodding. “Yeah. I never noticed that.”

“Who came up with this character?”

“Peggy, over the hiatus. All the characters were already fleshed out, along with the main storyline, when we started writing this season.”

“Oh.”

“What?” 

“I was gonna say, that sounds like something you would have come up with. The parallels.”

Bucky huffs a laugh. “Steve, I’m not the only good writer. Peggy’s, like, a genius.”

“I know, I know, I know,” Steve says, waving his hands a little. “I know. She’s amazing. I just – I dunno. I’ve just started assuming that all the good lines were written by you.” 

Bucky beams at this, forgetting entirely that he’s not supposed to be falling for this guy. “Yeah?”

Steve smiles self-consciously. “Yeah. Is that weird?”

“No, it’s nice. Why would it be weird?”

“Cos, you know. We’re friends, and that’s a little bit…” He shrugs. “You know.”

Bucky remembers what he was forgetting. “Oh. Yeah. That.” 

They sit there as the elephant finally makes its way into the room.

“I’d better get back to the set,” Steve says, and Bucky nods, knowing he’s not due back for fifteen minutes.

“Thanks for lunch. I’ll get yours sometime to pay you back.”

Steve shakes his head. “Nope. I refuse to let you pay me back.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah.” He shrugs. Steve shrugs a lot. “I like buying stuff for people I… uh, people I’m friends with.” 

He does an awkward little wave and then leaves. Bucky sits there thinking about that unfinished sentence for the next twenty minutes before remembering that he’s supposed to be working.

* * *

A week passes and they’re ready to film Bucky’s scenes. The actor who’s playing the Winter Soldier wanders onto set after make up and Bucky can’t help staring because she looks intimidating as fuck; black make up in a huge circle around her eyes, full leather gear, _metal fucking arm._ He’s almost afraid of her. But then he sees her crack a huge grin and throw her head back laughing at one of Steve’s jokes, and the spell is broken, and he’s just really excited to shoot.

The filming of his scenes goes very well. The dynamic between Cap and the Soldier is perfect – an instant connection, lives paralleled so it’s like they’ve known each other for years. Peggy gives Bucky a thumbs up across the set and Bucky grins, knowing the audience is going to love the Soldier. 

He’s tried to make good on his promise and finally buy Steve lunch, but Steve keeps coming to him with a sandwich and a coffee and saying, “Don’t complain about free food.” Bucky was raised poor, uncomfortable with people spending money on him, but he tries to see it as a nice gesture, not charity.

They take a five from filming and Steve comes straight over to Bucky. This isn’t unusual, but today it’s because Natasha is visiting. Steve is to be the wingman, introducing Nat to Sam like it’s no big deal, like it hasn’t been in the works for a week and a half. 

“Is she here?” Steve asks, standing in front of Bucky in his Cap costume. Blood is smeared over the star on his chest. It looks awesome.

“Yeah, she’s outside the building. We have to go get her. They don’t let just anyone in off the street.

“They let you in,” Steve says, crossing his arms and grinning at his joke. 

Bucky gets up and shoves Steve on his way out. “Come on. Getting her in will be faster if you’re there. They actually know who you are at reception.”

When they get downstairs, Nat is texting. Bucky has to clear his throat for her to look up. When she does, her gaze goes straight to Steve, and a sly smile appears. “Hey, fellas.”

“Ma’am,” says Steve, and Bucky laughs at his formality, coming out in the strangest of moments.

“There’s no need for that,” Nat says. “You must be Steve.”

“Nice to finally meet you, Natasha. Bucky’s told me a lot about you.”

“Oh really?” she says, looking at Bucky and raising one eyebrow.

“Yeah. I believe you left your underwear on the bathroom floor last Thursday?”

Bucky elbows Steve in the ribs. “Hey! That was in confidence.”

“No shame,” Natasha says. “I stand by my actions.”

They get her into the building and take the stairs to the first floor, where their interior sets are. When they get back on set, the five is finishing up, and Steve has to excuse himself to get re-powdered before they start filming again. Bucky gives Natasha his chair and leans against the wall next to her, watching the actors.

Steve really is amazing. He plays Cap so earnestly, the honesty and goodness practically seeping out of him like a visible aura. Although, the two men are practically identical with their kindness and good values, so Bucky figures it can’t be too hard.

The actor for the Winter Soldier turns out to be amazing, too, and it’s incredible to watch them hitting it off over and over as they shoot the scene eight times before deciding they have what they need. The slow smiles, the glances that last longer than they would if they were just friends, it’s all a little familiar, cutting too close to home.

Suddenly, Bucky wonders if Steve is thinking about him. The inappropriate thought slides into his head as he watches Steve laugh over and over again, watches him watch the Soldier over and over again, and it’s like it is when they’re alone. Steve’s performance of a man with a crush is the same as he acts towards Bucky. It looks so obvious in this context, so clear that he is flirting, that he can’t take his eyes off this woman, that he’s not just resting his eyes on her face while she talks like Bucky assumes he does with him. In the script, the directions tell Steve to act like “ _a man who is awestruck, but trying to hide it, because he thinks she must be too good to be true”._ Is that how Steve feels towards Bucky? Is that even possible?

Over the last week they’d been getting to know each other. Bucky had found out that Steve went to the same elementary school as someone Bucky went to high school with, that he was allergic to nuts and shellfish and penicillin. Bucky had assumed Steve would move on, because he could get anyone he wanted. But now that he thinks about it, their lunches together could easily be seen as dates, talking about their personal lives and laughing at each others jokes.

Natasha laughing quietly at one of the show’s jokes reminds him where he is, and he stops spiralling, dragging out his train of thought so far that it’s fiction. It’s dumb to think that Steve feels that strongly about him. It’s only been a week and a half.

Filming finished up, and Steve comes over, smiles at Nat and says, “Ready?”

Nat smiles back with her fresh lipstick. “You betcha.” 

Bucky sits in his chair and watches as Steve introduces Nat to Sam. Nat says something, and Sam looks surprised, so she probably went with the line about his fighting form. Steve sticks his thumb over his shoulder like he has to be somewhere, and Sam waves him off, not taking his eyes off of Nat’s face. Steve backs away and comes to stand next to Bucky. “Ah, young love,” he says wistfully.

Bucky scoffs a laugh. “Shut up.”

“Hey, are you busy tonight?” Steve asks him, sliding down the wall to a squat so he’s at the same level as Bucky in his chair.

“No, why?”

“There’s this new Italian place I wanna try.”

Bucky stiffens a little. Steve notices. “I need a friend to go with,” he says quickly. “Kinda sad to go to a restaurant alone.”

Bucky is about to argue back, that it’s not actually sad to go alone, that Steve has other friends, but he stops himself, because that’s not what friends would do. Friends go with friends to movies because they don’t want to go alone. Friends try out new restaurants and bitch about their bosses (which is easy for them because Fury gets on both of their nerves). Steve is asking him out to dinner as a friend. Even if he is looking at him like he was pretending to look at the Soldier.

“Sure. Just text me the address and I’ll be there.”

Steve grins. “Awesome.”

Nat comes back over, a triumphant smile on her face. “Got his number through normal means,” she says.

“Congratulations,” Bucky says, “you’ve found the only man in the world with low enough standards to date you.”

Natasha kicks him, and it actually hurts. While Bucky is making embarrassing noises of extreme pain, Steve laughs, and Natasha goes to steal some food from the Kraft table.

“You taught her well,” Steve says, watching Nat look around before putting three pastries in her purse. 

“We talked about it last night. Decided to tag team it. More free stuff with two people to sneak it out. That’s the whole reason she brought such a huge purse.”

Steve laughs, and then says, “Hey,” which is the thing people say before they say something uncomfortable. Bucky turns to him, a little nervous. “Yeah?”

“You and her are roommates?”

It’s a casual question, but Steve doesn’t look curious, he looks a little worried. Bucky knows exactly what he’s thinking, knows he’d be asking the same question if Steve had a roommate. He replies, “Yeah. Just roommates,” the “just” included to appease the clear subtext of Steve’s question.

Steve nods. “Cool. I gotta go, I’ll text you that address. Is eight o’clock okay for you?”

“Eight is fine,” Bucky replies, knowing full well that eight is when it starts to get dark this time of year. The perfect date time.

“See you there,” Steve says, and smiles before standing up, saying goodbye to Natasha, and leaving. Bucky approaches the table and starts picking up bananas.

“He’s a keeper,” Nat says, turning to Bucky with a full purse.

“Fuck off,” Bucky says, and they drive home in their separate cars, Bucky glad for the silence so he can think about how fucked he is, and how excited he is, too. It’s a sweet, burning torture, like constantly scratching an itch, and he hates himself for loving it.

* * *

If he’d had suspicions before, the restaurant is fuel for the fire. The lights have red paper over them so the place looks like a scene from a Taylor Swift video. There’s a _candle_ on the table.

But Bucky says nothing. They’ve managed to get the elephant out of the room, he doesn’t want to invite it back in and set their friendship back. He even tries not to look too uncomfortable, in case Steve actually _had_ organised this evening like a date, because Bucky reacting badly would hurt Steve’s feelings and make him feel guilty. God, he’s so fucked. 

Still, he can’t help how his stomach flips when they’re sat at their table and he looks at Steve, so handsome in the perfect lighting, smiling at him with that Cap smile and asking him what he thinks he’s going to order. Bucky hasn’t even looked at the menu, didn’t even notice it in front of him until now. He picks it up and decides on the lasagna quickly, so that he can look at Steve again. Pathetic.

At least whatever he’s feeling is clearly not unrequited. When Bucky tells Steve he’s ordering the lasagna, Steve nods like it’s the most fucking interesting thing he’s ever heard.

The waiter comes over and takes their order. Bucky orders the cheapest white wine on the menu, and Steve says, “That sounds good, can we have the bottle?” Because of course he does. It’s Steve. Impossibly generous. Intent on spoiling Bucky like he’s his boyfriend. It shouldn’t be annoying, but it is. Because it’s not happening, and it should be.

They chat idly about work until the food comes. Then Steve brings up Brooklyn again, saying, “You ever been to Coney Island?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Too poor. Always wanted to go on the Cyclone, though.”

Steve makes a distressed noise with his mouth full before swallowing and saying, “I threw up on that thing.”

Bucky grins. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Told you I was an unhealthy kid. The wrong smell would make me throw up, so a freakin’ rollercoaster… It wasn’t pretty.” 

“Why would you even go on it?” Bucky asks, staring at Steve, barely blinking. He takes a sip of his wine to find his glass empty. Steve sees, and doesn’t hesitate to pick up the bottle and pour him another. Bucky doesn’t protest; he’d taken an Uber to the restaurant, so he doesn’t have to drive.

“Well, there was this kid in my class who bet me I couldn’t take it,” Steve said, pouring himself another glass too. Bucky watches his hand, then trails his gaze up Steve’s arm to his chest, his dress shirt straining against his muscles. Bucky feels underdressed in a sweater and blue jeans, but the place isn’t fancy. It’s just Steve.

“You went on because of a bet?”

“Yeah. I mean, he was a bully. He bet me I’d, like, _die._ He thought I was so scrawny I’d fall right out of my seat.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I dunno, you should have seen me. I was five foot four until I was seventeen.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows, leans forwards, planting his elbows on the table. “No way.”

“Yes way. There was a very real threat of death, but I went on anyway. I threw up, but he didn’t see that part, so I won the bet.”

“What did you bet on?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asks as he finishes off his food, wiping the plate with garlic bread.

“He bet you couldn’t do it. What was the bet? What did you get because you won? What would he have got if you lost?”

Steve chuckles and moves his knife and fork so they’re together in the middle of his plate, the sign for being finished with a meal. Bucky hasn’t seen anyone do that for years. “Well, if I lost, I would have been dead, so that’s what he would have won. And because I won, he had to stop picking on kids smaller than him.”

Bucky breathes, “You bet him that?” before he can help it.

Steve shrugs, runs a hand through his hair. “It sounds better than it was. I just went up to him when he was bullying a kid and told him to pick on someone his own size. He said I was so small I couldn’t even ride the Cyclone on Coney Island. We bet. I’m just glad I won, or I wouldn’t be here right now,” he jokes to try and break the tension that’s risen, because Bucky can’t take his eyes off him. He’s… enthralled. 

They order dessert because, as Bucky says, “Fuck it, YOLO.” They finish off their second glasses of wine and make in on a third, cracking open a second bottle while eating their chocolate mousse and laughing about how they think Fury lost his eye.

“I think he was yelling so hard one day that he burst an eye instead of a blood vessel,” Bucky says, and Steve laughs and says, “Gross! I think he was at a safari in Africa and a lion attacked him, cos he told it that its performance was -” and here he uses air quotes, “-‘ _stupid-ass_ ’.” 

“I think he got so distracted by bad lighting that he stuck a fork in his eye instead of his food.”

Steve laughs so hard that he snorts. Bucky promises him that no, he is never going to live that down. Steve tells him that at least they’re even now, and they lock eyes at that and don’t look away until the waiter clears their plates away and drops the bill on the table.

Obviously Steve reaches for it. Bucky tries, but Steve literally swats his hand away and says, “I made you come out, I have to at least pay.” Bucky starts multiple sentences of complaint Steve just keeps saying, “Nope. Shh. Buck.”

 _Buck_. It sends a shiver down his spine whenever Steve says that. He doesn’t say it often, because how often do you say someone’s name to their face, but when he does, it’s a little bit heart breaking. ‘Buck’ is like a different person. He’s happy. He’s Steve’s boyfriend. He doesn’t rest his head against the steering wheel for ten minutes every day after work. Buck is closeness, Buck is everything they can’t have. Buck is what Steve would whisper in his ear when Bucky’s inside him; Buck is what he would moan, Buck is what he would _scream…_

Bucky puts down his wine glass. That’s quite enough alcohol for him.

They get up to leave, putting on their jackets, and Bucky gets a look at Steve in his suit again, and with three and a half glasses of wine in him it’s driving him even crazier than before. The way its obviously a custom made suit to accommodate for his broad shoulders, the way it makes him look boxier than he is when Bucky knows that inside that jacket is Steve’s small waist, delicate and feminine, the perfect size to slip his hands around.

Which he almost does. Steve walks by his side as they leave the restaurant and it’s everything, _everything_ in Bucky not to just reach over and grab Steve by the waist, pull him close. Because then Steve would put his arm around Bucky and it would be so _warm._ Steve is always exuding warmth; his smile, his body language, his voice, his language, his hands whenever he finds an excuse to touch Bucky – a clap on the back or shoulder or arm. One time he said Bucky had a crumb on his face. Bucky doubts there was anything there at all.

When they get outside in the rain, that’s when Bucky’s resolve is really wearing paper thin. Steve takes his jacket off and holds it up over both of their heads, grinning at Bucky, and Bucky beams right back, actually grabbing onto Steve’s waist as they try to stay together under the jacket. Bucky could just take off his own jacket too, but the thought doesn’t occur to him as he clings to Steve, feeling the muscles of his back along his arm. Steve says, “My place is just up the block,” and Bucky just nods, doesn’t question this at all. They walk pressed up together, Bucky stepping in countless puddles because he’s not looking where he’s going, he’s looking at Steve’s profile instead, how Steve is stumbling a little and squinting in the rain. Every time he stumbles Bucky’s grip tightens on his waist, his arm wraps a little more around him, and the next morning he suspects this is another crumb incident, where Steve is faking to get Bucky to touch him, but right now he wouldn’t care either way.

They reach Steve’s apartment and he pulls out his keys and unlocks the door. They walk up two flights of stairs and Steve lets them into apartment 166C. It’s less nice than Bucky was expecting for such a famous actor, but they’ve only been filming the show for one season. It’s not like everyone involved became a millionaire overnight.

Steve says, “Drink?” and Bucky replies, “Water would be great,” before slumping on the couch. Steve sits next to him, passes him one of two glasses of water. They drink in silence for a few moments before Steve says, “What do you think?”

“Of what?”

“Casa del Steve.”

Bucky snorts. He doesn’t even care if this makes them uneven in the snorting tally. Steve probably won’t remember, and neither will he. “It’s nice.” He bounces up and down a little. “Comfy couch.” When he stops bouncing, he’s closer to Steve, their thighs touching, and this is completely on purpose.

Bucky looks at Steve. Their faces are inches from each other. It’s closer than they’ve ever been, and Bucky is enthralled again. Completely captivated, like Steve is the most important, exciting thing in the world. Which he is, right now.

“I had a good evening,” Steve says, his voice low and quiet. Bucky notices Steve is not looking him in the eye. He tries to follow Steve’s gaze, realises he can’t because Steve is looking at Bucky’s mouth. “I was a little worried about asking you out, thought you might think it was inappropriate.”

Bucky just shakes his head, can’t stop looking at Steve’s eyes, half-drooped, and it’s turning Bucky on that Steve is looking at his lips, that Steve wants him, can’t take his eyes off what he wants. He can feel Steve’s breath on his face whenever he talks, the garlic bread smell washed away by the wine and dessert. He feels so warm, so tightly wrapped, so safe.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before,” Steve continues, choosing his words carefully, or as carefully as he can right now. “You just. You amaze me.”

Bucky scoffs. “Me? I’m nothin’ special.”

Steve lifts a hand to clasp Bucky’s shoulder, shaking him a little. “Are you kiddin’? You’re the most special guy I ever met. You’re… so talented. And you’re so perceptive, you see right through me. You know no one’s ever seen through my whole façade before? Everyone thought I was as cool as I act. You never believed it for a second.”

Bucky smiles. “That’s not cos I’m special. That’s cos I pay attention to you.”

Steve’s expression changes; he looks almost _touched._ Bucky wonders whether Steve really _didn’t_ think Bucky wanted him after he turned him down, whether this is the first time he’s realised how much Bucky wants him.

His expression changes again – now he’s serious. He puts his other hand on Bucky’s chest, pushing into him to steady himself, and looks into his eyes for the first time in minutes. “Buck, I can’t stop thinkin’ about you.”

“Steve…”

“I think about you all day, all night. I dream about you. You know how many times we’ve kissed in my dreams?”

Bucky wishes something would hit him like it usually does, something to sober him to reality, something to remind him that _this can’t happen._ He would be fired, Steve would be written off the show. It would be a catastrophe.

Of course, that’s only if people found out.

“Steve,” he says again, forgetting how to speak, barely remembering how to breathe.

Steve swallows. “Buck, I just need one kiss. Just one kiss and then I can stop.”

Bucky squints at him. “Wha’d you say?”

Steve slides his hand from Bucky’s shoulder to wrap around his neck, he’s sliding his other hand up Bucky’s chest to cup his face. “I can’t stop thinking about kissing you. I have to know. I have to know what it’s like, then I can stop thinking about you all the time.” He’s practically pleading now, looks so desperate, and it’s making Bucky grow hard in his pants, because Steve _needs_ him, he wants him so badly that he’s begging.

“We can’t,” says Bucky, but it’s incredibly weak. 

“One kiss. No one will find out.”

Bucky groans and tries to turn his head away, but Steve pulls it back, moves so he’s cross legged on the couch, facing Bucky with intense concentration. “Do you…” He falters, and has to look down. “Do you want me too?”

Bucky almost laughs. “Of course. Of course I want you.”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“Of course.”

“Will you?”

Bucky closes his eyes, focuses on his breathing. “This is… wrong.”

He feels Steve’s arms grab his shoulders again, pull him in, wrapping around him as Steve’s face buries in Bucky’s neck, planting an innocent kiss in the hollow above his collar bone. “I know, I know. But I’ll leave you alone afterwards. I just need one kiss.”

Bucky frowns. “Leave me alone?”

“I’ll stop bringing you lunch all the time and getting you to go to dinner with me.”

What? Bucky pulls backwards and opens his eyes to look at Steve. “You did that to get me to kiss you?”

Steve shakes his head vigorously. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant I wanted to be close to you.”

But for Bucky, his suspicions are confirmed. “So this _was_ a date.”

Steve struggles for words, shrugs, and says, “I mean, no. But I can’t say it wasn’t in my mind.”

“Were you trying to… _seduce_ me?” He’s too mad to be embarrassed about his choice of words.

Steve is all apologies, rubbing his hands up and down Bucky’s neck and saying, “No, no, I just had to be around you. When I’m not around you I go crazy, but then when I’m with you I go even crazier. It’s like torture, but I can’t get enough of ya.”

Bucky knows the feeling. “It feels like you tricked me. I don’t like that, Steve.”

“No, no, baby,” Steve groans, and “baby” makes Bucky’s resolve _atom-thin_. He has to bite his lip to keep from reaching out. “I didn’t trick you. I wanted to ask you tonight, I wanted to ask you if I could kiss you, but I wanted to take you to dinner first. I didn’t wanna do it wrong.” He pauses before saying, “If you thought it was a date, why did you come?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything.

“If you can’t be with me, why did you come?” Steve asks, running his fingers into Bucky’s hair, scratching at his scalp and down the nape of his neck. Bucky can’t help but close his eyes for a second as he says, “Because I have to be around you, too.”

Steve lets out a happy sigh. “So…” His gaze drops to Bucky’s mouth again. “Do I have your permission?”

Bucky closes his eyes again and tries to think straight, tries to block out the feeling of his erection straining against his jeans, the thought of what Steve could do to him if he had Bucky’s permission. He wants Steve. He wants him more than he’s ever wanted anyone. Bucky doesn’t date, hasn’t dated since freshman year of college. He’s never wanted someone so much that he felt victimised, physically weak.

But then he thinks about college. Not being able to afford both lunch and dinner. Checking out dozens of books at a time from the NYU library because he didn’t have a TV. And after college, going on dozens of interviews, submitting portfolio after portfolio to publishers and magazines and TV stations, thinking he would never get a job. Having to live on Natasha’s couch until he got a job at Starbucks that he kept until he started actually earning. It was hell.

And it’s not like he can get another job if he’s fired. It would be a scandal. No one would want to hire a writer who can’t even last a season at a sitcom, who fucks the actors even if it’s against the rules. Can’t keep it in his pants long enough to write a scene.

So he keeps his eyes closed when he shakes his head. He heard Steve groan childishly like Bucky just said ‘no dessert until you have your vegetables’. Bucky keeps shaking his head until he feels Steve’s hands slide off him, then he stops and opens his eyes. It kills him, _kills_ him to see Steve look like this, clearly feeling rejected and disappointed but trying to cover it up. He hates that Steve feels like that, and that he feels the need to hide it. Bucky felt so safe in this space, but Steve doesn’t, and that upsets Bucky, makes him feel guilty for some reason. Maybe it’s just because it’s Steve’s apartment, he doesn’t feel the same way about it that Bucky does. Doesn’t feel like it’s safe and special like Bucky does.

Steve gets up after a moment and Bucky can’t help but watch him as he walks to the kitchen to fill up their glasses with water again. He passes Bucky’s back to him, but Bucky holds up a hand and says, “I should go.” He pulls out his phone and calls an Uber that’s three minutes away.

Steve nods and puts the glasses down on the counter. He walks with Bucky to the door and holds it open for him, his posture tensed in a way that would be unnoticeable to anyone but Bucky, who’s studied that form so closely, watched him act and walk and sit and laugh and eat. He can’t help but wrap his arms around Steve before he leaves, pulling him in as tight as he can, feeling the strip of warmth where their bodies meet and wanting more than anything for it to be even warmer. Steve hugs Bucky back, hands sliding back up into his hair and gripping it lightly. Bucky presses the side of his mouth against Steve’s ear, and Steve leans into it.

They hold each other for about a minute before Bucky has to go. He says, “See ya Monday, Steve,” as he goes, because tomorrow is Friday and he’ll be up in the writers room all day. Steve says, “See ya, Buck,” before he shuts the door, and Bucky thinks about _Buck_ again, this guy Steve thinks he’ll see later. 

Bucky hopes he’ll see him, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the awesome comments! Keep em comin ;)


	3. Chapter 3

Three weeks later and they’re starting to film episode three. Bucky wanders onto set at one minute to nine and sits down in his chair with a coffee and a hangover. He’d gone out with Nat and Sam last night and ended up in a drinking contest with Nat – which, obviously, he had lost. They’d had to carry him into a taxi, and then out of the taxi and into his bed. Nat had woken him up this morning with a cup of coffee and a bacon sandwich, telling him that he “smells like shit and needs to shower”.

Safe to say, his Monday is not off to a good start. 

The actors come out of makeup and file onto the set. Sam sees him and gives him a little wave and a knowing eyebrow-raise. Bucky just raises his (second) cup of coffee in tired acknowledgement.

Then he looks down at his phone until they start filming.

The last few weeks have been rough. That first Monday that Steve and Bucky saw each other after their drunken confessions, it was awkward. They tried to keep talking, tried to act like nothing had changed. Steve would bring Bucky lunch, they would talk about work and TV shows and the news, but it wasn’t the same. On the Wednesday, Steve said, in the middle of a conversation about Thai food, “Buck, I don’t know if I can keep doin’ this.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked, willing Steve to keep the façade up, because he knew where this was headed.

“You know what I mean.” 

Bucky sighed and said, “Yeah, I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry, I should be the one apologising.” Steve shook his head. “I never should have brought it up.”

Bucky didn’t need to ask what “it” was. They both knew.

“It’s not your fault either,” Bucky tried to tell him, but he doubted that anything he said could stop Steve looking so pained.

Even this conversation was hard. Something had changed between them, fundamentally, like they weren’t compatible anymore as friends. But Bucky still cared about Steve, _so_ much, so he said, “I don’t want to stop seeing you.”

Steve just looked at him with sad, round eyes. “I don’t either, but I can’t keep…” He ran his hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable. Bucky just watched him. “I can’t just be your friend. I think it’s better if we just keep away from each other for a while, okay?”

Bucky wanted to argue, wanted to cling to Steve’s t-shirt and never let go, but Steve said, “Take care of yourself, Buck,” and walked away.

So here they are. Almost three weeks without speaking. At this point, they don’t even look at each other. It’s strangely addictive, distancing himself more and more from Steve, sometimes taking the long way round just to walk past him and pretend not to notice him. Steve does the same; more than once he’s walked past the writers’ room when he knows Bucky’s inside, when he has no business being in that part of the building.

But no matter how hard he tries, Bucky can’t stop talking to Steve in his mind. He lies in bed and thinks about what he would have said to Steve if he could, if he could say anything or do anything to Steve that he wanted. If he could kiss him, touch him, run his hands all over that beautiful body and worship it like it deserves to be worshipped. He imagines telling Steve how beautiful he is, how much he wants him, whispering whatever he wanted in his ear as their bodies moved together.

Too many nights he’s slipped a hand down his boxers and touched himself to the thought of it – Steve being his, him being Steve’s. Shame fills him immediately after he finishes, filling the space that lust had left behind. On the nights he holds off and tells himself it’s unhealthy to be getting off to the thought of someone he can’t have, he doesn’t sleep. He stares at his eyelids until 3am, 4am, 5am. When he gives in, he falls asleep fine.

* * *

 

This is how his life continues for the next two months. He doesn’t speak to Steve once in that time, stops bothering to try and catch his attention. Starts going out of his way to avoid him, eating in his car (much to Sam’s protests of “dude, you can just sit with me.” But that’s the table Steve eats at).

Whenever they catch each other’s eye it’s like the world stops for a second. Even after Steve looks away, it’s still just Bucky sitting there, frozen to his seat, unable to breathe. In those moments, it’s sweet torture all over again. He wants to talk to Steve, just say hi. Know how he’s doing. But Steve doesn’t want to talk to him, he reminds himself. This was not a mutual decision.

And then, they’re almost at the hiatus. The mid-season finale. Episode 12. The first episode of the second season aired this week, and audiences went crazy over the new, modern Cap, with his Nike sneakers and hoodie. He wore a hat in one scene for five seconds, and #CapsSnapBack started trending on Twitter.

Peggy is very pleased with his work, it’s safe to say. Over the last ten episodes they’ve worked together on the Cap/Soldier storyline, making them grow closer and closer. In episode 11, Bucky wrote a speech from the Soldier to Cap confessing that she’d started to have feelings for him. Cap had started to reply, but the Soldier had left before he could say anything. So, a lot was riding on episode 12.

He arrives in the writers’ room at 9am on the Friday and Peggy is flat out  _yelling_ at Rumlow. Bucky sits down and whispers to the writer next to him, “What’s going on?”

She replies, “He said the Soldier should die because it’d be good for Cap’s character.”

Bucky grimaces.

“Just sit there and keep your mouth shut!” Peggy finishes, before turning to Bucky and saying, “James, can I have a word in my office?”

“Sure,” Bucky says, trying not to be afraid. Him and Peggy have become quite good friends working together, but she sure can be intimidating when she wants to be. He closes the door behind him as she sits down at her desk.

“Sit down,” she says, so he does. She smooths her hands over her hair before threading her fingers together and resting her hands on the desk. “So, you know the mid season finale is this week.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve been thinking about the Cap/Soldier relationship, and I realised that through this whole season, it’s not actually been me who’s been making the big decisions. It’s been you.”

Bucky says, “Oh,” and tries to determine whether she’s angry or not.

“You came up with her entrance, her decision to run away on the bridge, her confession to Cap in the last episode. And I have to say, I don’t think I could have done it better myself.” She starts smiling, and Bucky relaxes, smiling back.

“I’m glad you’re happy with my work.”

“I really am. So much so that I’m letting you decide what happens in this finale.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he very unprofessionally blurts, “What?”

“All I know is I want something to happen. The fans love her in the premiere, and the focus groups are very invested in their relationship. Either they have to decide to be together, or not to be together. Whatever you choose, I want you to have a plan for the rest of the season as well. If they get together, will they break up in the summer finale? If they decide not to be together, will they then change their minds? That kind of thing. I want you to be in charge of their relationship.”

“I…” Bucky is struggling to find the words. This is the biggest opportunity he’s ever gotten. This means everything to him. “Thank you. So much.”

Peggy smiles again. “That’s my pleasure. You’re very talented, James. It’s not like you don’t deserve this.”

“When do you want me to write it for?” he asks, standing to leave, expecting her to tell him he has a week or so.

“Oh, for Monday’s fine.” She waves her hand. “If you get it done before then, that’s great, but no pressure.”

Bucky swallows dryly, says, “Okay, sure. Thanks again,” while trying not to freak out that he has two days to decide the fate of this storyline. As he moves to leave, Peggy says, “Oh, maybe talk to the actors as well. See what they think about the fate of their characters.”

Obviously, he talks to the woman who plays the Soldier first. She’s very nice, a little flirty, a little jokey. She says she thinks they should get together, that she loves the relationship between the Soldier and Cap and that it’s the kind of dynamic where you know they’re “in it to the end of the line”. Huh. Bucky might have to steal that line.

And then, there’s nothing left to do but talk to Steve. He’s standing by the camera, watching Iron Man film a scene where he’s trying to improve Jarvis’s technology but he malfunctions and starts talking sass. Steve throws his head back and laughs when Iron Man cries, “Jarvis, you’re being ridiculous!” and Jarvis replies, “Just let me do me, man.”

It’s a sight, Steve laughing like that, makes Bucky’s gut twinge, makes his palms start to sweat. Almost three months without any real contact. Sure, in that time neither of them has lost their job, but…

But what?

But, it’s hard.

He balls his hands into fists and walks over to Steve, tapping him on the shoulder. Steve turns around and the surprise on his face is so clearly played out, his mouth curving around a “What?” before he smooths out his expression and says instead, “Hey.”

“Hey. Can I talk to you?”

“Sure.” He follows Bucky off the set and into an empty hallway. When they’re alone, he says, “What’s up?” It’s clear that he’s trying to be casual, a strain in his voice, his posture too tense as he leans up against the wall.

Bucky can’t look at him, just stares at the wall beside him. “Peggy told me to ask you what you think should happen with Cap and the Soldier in the mid season finale. She said you either have to decide to be together or to not be together.”

“I get to decide?”

“No, she just thinks we should get your input.”

Bucky hears Steve exhale heavily like he’s thinking, but he doesn’t see it, he’s just focusing on the chipping blue paint in front of him, trying not to do something dumb like leave or cry. It’s too overwhelming. He didn’t think it would be this overwhelming to actually talk to Steve again after three months of imagining what he’d say if they did talk again. It’s overwhelming that he’s not actually saying any of it, that everything he’d planned on saying doesn’t seem right, that he wasted all that time thinking of different ways to say “fuck you for leaving me” when really all he wants to say is “how are you?”

“I think they shouldn’t be together,” Steve says. “I mean, there’s the whole thing about how they literally don’t know each other’s real names, they’re just Cap and the Soldier, and they _can’t_ know each other’s real names because that’s a risk. There’s just too many risks overall.”

Risks. Steve’s a risk.

“Okay. Thanks for letting me know,” Bucky says, and turns around to leave.

“Buck,” Steve says softly, and Bucky stops immediately, hates that he does but he can’t move. “Look at me.”

“I have to go,” Bucky says, petty as hell but needing to get out of there, away from Steve, because he’s doing weird things to his mind and body, like making them want him.

“How’ve you been?” Steve asks, his voice sounding so quiet and sad that Bucky turns around, looks at him for the first time in this light.

Immediately he knows it was a mistake. In ‘getting over Steve’ steps, he’s just fallen down a flight of them. Because it’s like this that he wants Steve the most – under fluorescent lighting, not yet gone into make up because his scenes aren’t til the afternoon. He’s so flawed, so much more real. So present in front of him. The opposite of the Steve that Bucky thinks about at night, airbrushed by longing.

“I’m good. How are you?”

Steve takes a single step towards him. Bucky wants to take a step back, but again, he can’t, just watches as Steve takes another step, and another, until they’re close enough for Steve to take Bucky by the shoulders and look right in his eyes. “I miss you.”

Bucky starts to say how ridiculous that is, when Steve says, “I know that’s ridiculous, but I do. I miss you. I’m sorry I said we shouldn’t see each other. I take it back. Can I take it back?” His blue eyes are crinkling up at the sides and Bucky’s chest physically hurts looking at it. It’s like he’s looking at the moon; everything around Steve is darkness.

“It’s been three months,” Bucky says, managing to keep his tone even.

“I know, I’m so sorry,” Steve breathes, gripping harder on Bucky’s shoulders, “but I’ve been wanting to tell you I miss you for so long. But it seemed like you didn’t want to talk to me either.”

He can’t blame Steve for thinking that. Bucky has flat out been _avoiding_ Steve. At least Steve still eats in the cafeteria. Bucky gets to work at 9, leaves at 5, doesn’t stay a minute longer or do any more than he has to.

“I have to go,” Bucky says again, but they both know he doesn’t mean it. Then, because he’s a weak fucker, he says, “I miss you too.”

Steve smiles, and Bucky can see his eyes glisten, like this is the most wonderful thing he’s ever heard. He looks practically _grateful_ , like he’s being forgiven for all his wrongdoings. Bucky can try to stay mad, hold a grudge, but knows in his heart that Steve never did anything wrong. Not really.

He wonders briefly if Steve still wants to kiss him. If he’s thinking about it right now. If he still thinks about him when he’s casting pining glances at the Soldier on set.

“Can we get a coffee sometime? Maybe at the weekend? I just want to talk.”

Bucky opens his mouth to say yes, then remembers his deadline. “I can’t. I have to finish some scenes for Monday.”

“Let’s go out Monday then. To celebrate you being done.” He starts rubbing his fingers against Bucky’s hoodie, probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it; he hasn’t taken his eyes off Bucky’s this whole time.

“Okay.” Bucky nods. “Sure.”

“After work?”

“Sure.”

Steve smiles that grateful smile again, looking down and up again like he’s desperate to pull Bucky in for a hug but knows he shouldn’t. So he steps back, lets his hands slip off Bucky and swing by his sides.

“I have to go…” Bucky says, turning his shoulder in the direction of the writers’ room.

Steve nods. “Okay. See you later.”

“See ya, Steve.”

When he’s up in the writers’ room alone, he puts his head on the desk and feels all the shame he was trying not to feel looking in Steve’s eyes. Firstly, he shouldn’t even be talking to Steve. They’re forbidden from being together, and this is only going to make it worse. If they couldn’t be friends before, why would it be any different this time?

Secondly, Steve is feeling all the guilt when it’s really all Bucky’s fault. Closing himself off, alienating himself. While Steve had been trying to get Bucky’s attention, walking past the writers’ room, Bucky had been going out of his way to show Steve that he was over him. When he wasn’t. At all.

And finally, there’s a certain type of shame, speaking to someone after so long. Especially when you’ve been thinking about them every night, sweating under the covers and coming quietly in his own hand while pretending it’s his.

He pushes it all away and starts typing, hoping that he’ll decide what to do with the characters along the way.

* * *

At ten p.m., Bucky’s still in the building. Everyone else has gone home, so he’s sitting in Peggy’s office again. It’s strange, but he likes being here when he writes. Maybe because the chair is so damn comfortable, maybe because he respects Peggy so much.

And yet nothing is coming out. This is the _last scene_ of the _mid-season finale._ Arguably the most important scene of the whole show so far. The entire audience wants to know whether something will happen between Cap and the Winter Soldier. Bucky’s got them right where he wants them. But he has no idea what to write next.

He groans loudly and drops his head on the table. Then he hears the door open.

“Bucky?”

His head shoots up in panic, but he relaxes a little when he sees who it is. “Steve! What are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here? Does Peggy know you’re in here?” Steve stands in the doorway, wearing another white t-shirt. It’s like he buys them in bulk, keeps one in each pocket at all times in case of emergencies.

“I like it in here. It’s peaceful.”

“This a common thing? You always here this late?”

“Sometimes. I write best in the evenings. I gotta be a little tired, a little out of it.” He also has to be alone, but he doesn’t tell Steve that, because he doesn’t want Steve to take it the wrong way and leave.

Steve laughs. “That’s weird.”

“Why are you here?”

“Left my phone in here earlier. Only just realised.”

“What were you doing in the writers’ room?”

“Uh.” Steve rubs his neck, looking sheepish. It’s very cute.

“What?” Bucky asks, a slow smile growing. “What is it?”

“I was looking for you. Just, you know. Had a free half hour. Thought we could maybe catch that coffee early.”

Bucky’s smile turns to a grin. He realises with this that something has changed again between them. Or rather, changed _back._ It’s been so long since the weirdness of that Thursday night that it’s easy for them to be around each other again. This shouldn’t make Bucky happy, he should want to stay away from Steve – but it makes him happier than he’s been in months, if only for a brief moment. He nods and says, “Yeah, I was probably out.”

Steve nods back. “I figured. So, what are you working on?”

Oh yeah. Bucky had almost forgotten his struggles, talking to Steve. He sighs and turns back to his computer. “Last scene of the mid-season finale. I can’t figure out how to end it.”

“You’re in charge of that?” Steve asks, closing the door behind him and coming to sit opposite Bucky. “The way you talked about it earlier, sounded like it was Peggy’s decision.” 

“I didn’t want to _brag_.”

Steve laughs. “Well, congrats. That’s a big deal.”

“Well, I thought so too, but I’m stuck. I don’t know what I want to happen.”

“Didn’t you say you have until Monday?”

“Yeah, but I should probably finish the first draft tonight, so I can polish it tomorrow and then use the rest of the weekend to figure out your storyline for the second half of the season.”

“Want me to read what you’ve got?”

“Like, run lines?”

“Yeah. Might help if you see the actor doing it.”

Bucky nods. “Okay. Sure.” Steve walks around the desk, moves so he’s looking over Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky scrolls up in the document until he’s at the start of the scene he’s working on, hyper aware of Steve right behind him, of how easy it would be to reach behind him... He clears his throat and starts reading. “ _Cap. I’ve been looking for you.”_

Steve leans forwards, rests an arm on the desk so he’s leaning over Bucky’s shoulder. “ _I’ve been looking for you too. About earlier.”_

“ _No, that’s okay. It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have said what I said.”_

_“That’s not what I mean. I wanted to say… I feel the same.”_

_“You do?”_

_“Yeah. I have for a while now.”_

Bucky glances sideways. Steve’s face is mere inches from his own, white in the light of the computer. No soft lighting, no powder, no gel. Bucky can see the fine hairs on his face and the shadow of stubble, the pores on his nose, the longest eyelashes he’s ever seen. He has to look away, back to the screen for his line. “ _I gotta admit, that’s nice to hear. But it doesn’t change anything. I mean, all the reasons Iron Man was talking about? Why Avengers can’t date anyone, let alone each other? They still apply.”_

_“I know that. You think I don’t know that? That I don’t think about it every day, every second? You think I haven’t kissed you in my dreams, woken up feeling so lonely that I think it’s a nightmare?”_

Bucky wonders if Steve remembers saying almost that exact line to Bucky that night three months ago. Wonders if he still dreams about him like that.

_“I feel that way too. But you know the risks.”_

_“I do. I’m just not sure I care anymore.”_

_“Cap?”_

_“So, we could die. So superheroes with loved ones are more at risk. So I don’t – and CAN’T – know your real name. This doesn’t feel like living. I mean, I’m DYING, I’m dying to just…”_

_“What?"_

_“To…”_ Steve takes a deep breath. Bucky hears it shake in his chest.

“And that’s where I’m stuck.” Bucky takes his hands from the computer and sandwiches them between his thighs, feeling his palms start to sweat for the second time that day. “I don’t know what they should do.”

“Why not?” Steve says, so low it’s almost a whisper. He hasn’t moved, still leaning over Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky feels Steve’s chest on his shoulder, both of them looking forwards at the screen, watching the cursor blink, their cheeks almost touching.

“Because there’s so much at stake. I don’t know if it’s worth it to be together. I don’t know if that’s what heroes would do.”

“They’re not heroes. They’re human beings.”

“But the Winter Soldier, she’s been alone for so long –”

“Bucky.”

Bucky looks at Steve. His own breath is impossibly loud in his ears.

“I think...”

“Yeah?” Bucky whispers.

“I think...” Steve is whispering too now, his gaze roaming all over Bucky’s face. “I think they should kiss.”

“They can’t.” Bucky swallows. “You know they can’t.”

“They can.”

“There are… rules.”

“I know.” Steve’s arm bends as he lowers himself closer to Bucky, towering over where Bucky sits in the desk chair. Bucky’s hands reach up to push Steve back but end up clutching at the neck of his t-shirt, fingers knotting in the white material. Steve glances down at it and then back up. “What do you think they should do?” Steve says, and Bucky wouldn’t have heard it if they hadn’t been so close.

“I think…” His fingers slide up Steve’s neck, down along his collar bone, feeling his skin for the first time, so warm and soft. He can’t think. He can’t think. It’s so dark in the office and Steve is like a beacon of light, with his blonde hair and his bright eyes and his smile that could melt ice, his gaze thick with desire and his breath landing in Bucky’s open mouth. “I think…”

And then he pulls down on Steve’s shirt. Closing the gap between them, tilting his head up to press his lips against Steve’s. They’re kissing. Bucky can’t believe it.

It’s firm, closed-mouthed, almost angry, self-destructive. Bucky’s hands grip Steve’s shirt like he’s trying to rip it and then Steve is pulling back, standing up straight, and Bucky begins to say something when Steve picks up Bucky’s laptop and moves it, moves all the stuff on the desk, and then Bucky gets the message. He stands too, waits for Steve to finish. His blood is pounding and his breath is heavy and he can hardly hear anything else, not even his rational thoughts telling him that _this is bad, this is bad,_ because this is good, this is _good,_ Steve is pushing him onto the desk and climbing on top, kissing him with open mouthed excitement, sloppy teenage kisses of desperation and secrecy.

Bucky wraps his legs around Steve’s hips and his arms around Steve’s shoulders and just kisses, letting his tongue taste Steve’s pink lips and perfect teeth as they breathe together. It’s been years, maybe a decade since he’s just kissed someone without thinking about what was coming next, because he’s assuming Steve will stop this soon, Steve just wanted to be able to kiss him properly, Steve is responsible and can’t lose this job either. Steve said he couldn’t talk to Bucky anymore. Steve is going to stop soon.

Then Steve starts pulling up Bucky’s shirt. Bucky is so surprised he breaks off the kiss and breathes, “What?” before pushing himself up by his elbows.

Steve, however, doesn’t hear this, and pulls Bucky’s shirt up to his shoulders, starts kissing his stomach, and Bucky says, “Steve,” a little breathless, and Steve hears this one, and _moans_ at the sound of his own name. And every rational thought left in Bucky’s head vanishes. Because he has to hear that noise again.

He pulls his shirt over his head and throws it behind him, grabbing Steve under his armpits and pulling him back up so he can kiss him, so he can grab at that white t-shirt until Steve pulls it off, so he can slot their hips together and pull his knees in so there’s friction. He can feel Steve hard against him as they grind their hips together, feels it against his stomach and then his thigh, and when he feels it against his own erection he says again, with meaning, _“Steve._ ”

Steve moans again, starts kissing Bucky’s neck, sucking on his throat and licking the line of his jaw. Bucky grabs Steve’s ass and pulls it up and Steve climbs on to the desk, straddling Bucky, and Bucky doesn’t know if it’s the urgency or the rule breaking that has neither of them attempting to undress further, but he does know that he’s about to come in his pants and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

“Steve,” he says, and Steve just hums back, biting at Bucky’s earlobe and bottom lip before kissing him again, pressing their foreheads together, picking up speed with his hips and saying, “I’ve wanted you for so long, Buck, so long.”

“Steve, I’m-” Bucky pants, hands clutching pitifully at Steve’s hair before his head tips back and his back arches and he comes, gasping, feeling it fill his pants as Steve’s hips stutter and he’s coming too, burying his face in Bucky’s neck and moaning into his skin.

Steve plants a few light kisses on Bucky’s shoulder as they still, Bucky staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, Steve a heavy weight on his chest.

And then there’s silence. Then there’s afterwards. Cold air sets the sweat on their bodies and they disconnect. Steve sits up, climbs off the desk and slumps into the desk chair. Bucky sits up, shifts uncomfortably, and thinks of nothing but going home and changing.

They look at each other in the semi-darkness. Steve’s lips are pressed together and Bucky can’t read his expression. But it’s an expression in itself.

“I really care about you, you know,” Steve says suddenly.

Bucky smiles, wanting to cry but not knowing why. “I care about you too.”

“I don’t want you to lose your job because of me.”

“Yeah, same… same to you.”

Steve nods. It might be the light but it looks like he’s trying not to cry. “Okay. So.”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out, puts his hand on Bucky’s knee and stares at the spot on Bucky’s neck where a hickey is already forming.

“Yeah,” says Bucky. He looks at Steve’s dishevelled hair and swollen lips, his jeans low on his hips. He thinks about this man who sat with him at lunch on his second day, who acts so cool but struggles at being real, has to walk away. This is real, Bucky thinks. Him and Steve, that’s as real as it gets. And real life is unfair. The Winter Soldier and Cap, they can kiss. They can break the rules. Someone will write a way for them to be okay. But Steve and Bucky are forbidden. Steve and Bucky are doomed.

Bucky slides off the desk, takes Steve’s face in his hands. Steve won’t look at him, keeps staring at the carpet like the weight of it all has just hit him. He probably thought he could get it out of his system, that it was a physical thing. He got his one kiss, he got his one slip up, he’s supposed to be done now. Right now, he’s probably realising that he can never be done like that with Bucky. Bucky leans down and kisses him, soft and brief, and when he pulls back Steve has closed his eyes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Bucky says, picking up his shirt and hesitating before opening the door to leave.

“Yeah,” says Steve, but his voice breaks. He coughs. “Yeah. See ya, Buck.”

When Bucky gets home, Natasha asks about the hickey in a teasing voice. Bucky just says, “I’m tired, Nat, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow,” and heads into his bedroom. He falls asleep immediately, like he always does when he gives in to Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might actually have to start doing my uni work at some point soon so updates might slow down. But for now, all day erry day.


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky works all weekend on the storyline, giving into the trope of “man who throws himself into work to avoid thinking about emotions”. Natasha comes in on the Sunday morning with a coffee and sits on the foot of his bed, staring at him until he eventually looks up and says, “What?”

“I got you a coffee.” She hands it to him and he thanks her. “So now tell me what happened on Friday.”

Bucky sighs. “So this is bribe coffee.”

“No, it’s ‘what the fuck is going on’ coffee. Bucky, you’ve been in your room since you got back Friday night. Did you even eat yesterday?”

“Yeah. I went out to get food after you went to bed.”

Natasha raises her eyebrows. “Are you avoiding me?”

“No, I just. I know I promised to tell you about what happened, but I don’t want to just yet. I just need to work right now.”

Nat climbs up the bed so she’s sitting next to where Bucky lies under the covers with his laptop on his knees, wearing his comfiest pyjamas most appropriate for self-loathing. “Tell me about what you’re working on.”

This is new. Natasha never wants to hear about the plot of the show, calling it a ‘dumb kids show about hot people who fly, apart from the bits you write of course’. She must be trying to make him feel better.

But he sighs and tells her anyway, because to be honest, he’s missed her lately. She’s always off at Sam’s place which is “much nicer than ours, like he has a Jacuzzi”.

“Okay, so.” He turns to her, crossing his legs beneath him and leaning forwards. “I’ve decided that in the season finale, Cap and the Soldier shouldn’t be together. It just doesn’t make sense right now. Loki’s fucking things up, don’t even get me started on Ultron, so that’s like, too much for them to handle right now. So they decide to just keep it platonic, for now. And then in the next season…” He looks at Natasha with tired eyes. “I got nothin’. All I’ve done is decide that they aren’t gonna get together yet.”

Natasha gives him an awkward pat on the shoulder. “There, there… Uh, can’t you talk to one of the other writers about it? Kinda unfair that this is all down to you.”

“Peggy gave me this awesome opportunity – I can’t just bail on her. I mean, the only person I’ve met who really gets Cap’s character like me and Peggy is…”

Steve.

“Get out, I gotta make a call,” Bucky says, sliding Natasha off the bed with his foot. She slaps his leg (and again, it _hurts_ ) and says, “Glad I could help.”

As soon as she closes the door behind her, Bucky fishes out his phone, opens his contacts, and stares at the name. ‘ _Steve Rogers’._ Has there ever been a better name? He opens up the contact, looks at the blank space where a photo is supposed to be. That’s how little they know each other. Bucky doesn’t even have a picture of Steve on his phone.

He goes onto their messages, scrolls up sadly, looking at all the times Steve had texted him about where to meet for lunch three months ago. He gets right to the top, to their first text exchange, with Steve sending him Sam’s number. Bucky had replied, _Thanks, but she wants to get it off him in person instead. Apparently it’s a bit creepy to text a stranger._ Steve had written back, _No problem. What u up to?_

And then they’d chatted for a little while until Steve went to bed at 10. Bucky had called him a grandpa, and Steve had written, _Hey, that’s season one me. I’m cool now._ Bucky remembers smiling at that, the reference to his writing. That was after Steve had asked him out and he’d had to say no. It seems a lifetime ago.

Unlike what had happened Friday night.

Bucky hasn’t thought about it. At all. Which is very strange, as usually he’s overthinking everything, staying up all night wondering what this means and how Steve was feeling. But this felt different. It felt like something he should try _not_ to think about. This was a lot bigger than all that had come before. This was real.

He texts Steve, _Hey. Having some problems writing this storyline. Think you could help?_

Steve replies in ten seconds. _Of course. What’s up?_

_-Do you think you could come over?_

_-Sure. Where do you live?_

Bucky texts him the address and puts down his phone. And that’s when all the feelings he’s been holding back wash over him.

He’d kissed Steve. They’d done… stuff. When he thinks about it, what they did doesn’t really fall into any categories. Technically, they only got to first base. It was kind of pathetic, actually. Ridiculously desperate, cautious while not being cautious at all. And things were so weird afterwards, all the realness of the outside world crashing down on them at once. If anyone found out about it, Bucky would lose his job immediately. Steve would be killed off or something. It’s not just a matter of trying to stay away from Steve anymore. Now they’re keeping a secret. He’s broken the rules, and he doesn’t like it.

Instead of feeling less tense at Friday night’s release, he feels worse. He feels like all the what-ifs are happening right now. He’s already thinking about how he’s going to make rent for this month and he’s not even fired.

He almost forgets that Steve is coming over when the buzzer sounds. He heard Nat press the button, ask who it is, and hears Steve’s voice through the intercom. Nat sounds surprised at this, but lets him up anyway. Bucky hears footsteps approaching his room and Nat opens his door, stands there, and looks at him.

Bucky sighs. “Yes, it’s to do with Friday.”

Nat nods. “I’ll stay out of it.” She pauses. “Did he give you the hickey?”

“Go AWAY.”

“Fine, fine.” She holds her hands up and backs out of the room. “You’re still in your PJs, by the way.”

Bucky looks down in panic to find that yes, he’s still wearing his fleecy red pyjama bottoms. And there’s a knock on the door.

Steve smiles when he sees him, and then looks down, sees the dashing outfit, and laughs. Bucky grimaces, pretending to be embarrassed. But really he’s just relieved that things aren’t weird. He can’t take another three months of silence like the last time something happened between them.

He opens the door wider so Steve can come in. Steve looks around, puts his hands on his hips. “Wow. It’s neater than I thought it would be.”

“You don’t think I’m neat?”

Steve shrugs. “I don’t mean it in a bad way. Where’s Nat?”

“In her room, I think. Want me to get her?”

“Nah, that’s okay.”

Okay, so not completely not-weird. But that’s to be expected.

“Do you want something to, like, eat or drink?” Bucky asks, not used to having company.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Cool, uh, sit down, I’ll just be a sec.” He goes into his bedroom to pick up his laptop and considers changing, but Steve’s already seen him in his PJs – and with his shirt off, on his back, hands in each other’s hair – so decides against it.

When he emerges, Steve is sitting on the couch. He’s not even on his phone, he’s just sitting there looking around the apartment, currently fascinated by the pot plant on the coffee table. (Nat’s. Everything nice in here is Nat’s.)

Bucky lingers, looking at him. It always takes him a second with Steve, to get the butterflies. At first look, he’s just a person. Bucky’s friend. Bucky reacts like he would if Nat came to his door, or Sam, or anyone else. He managed to invite Steve in and ask him if he wanted a fucking beverage. Right now, he has no idea how he managed to get two words out when he opened that door.

He’s Steve Rogers, wearing another white t-shirt, with a leather jacket over it that Bucky’s never seen before, sitting on Bucky’s couch, holding a plant leaf in between his fingers because he cares about Bucky so damn much that even his possessions are interesting to him. It makes Bucky desperate to talk about what happened. He realises that’s why he hasn’t been thinking about it – because this time it’s not just about him and his struggles to refuse Steve’s kiss. They’re in it together, and he wants to talk about it.

But he sits down next to Steve with his laptop and Steve is in business mode, asking questions about the storyline. Bucky managed to finish the mid-season finale, so they run those lines together and Steve says he’s pleased that Bucky decided to keep them apart for now, that it’s not their time.

Eventually, it starts driving him crazy. Steve is doing better, sure, seeing as he hasn’t told Bucky that he “can’t do this” or tried to leave yet, but it’s still not enough, he’s still holding back, and Bucky doesn’t want that this time. Friday was something they can’t come back from.

So he says, interrupting Steve in the middle of a sentence, “Can we talk about it, please?”

Steve opens and closes his mouth a few times in surprise, before taking an elaborately deep breath. “Yeah, sure. Sorry.”

They both wait for the other one to talk. Bucky realises in the silence that he doesn’t actually know what he wants to say, just that he couldn’t keep ignoring the issue. What is there to say, really?

“I’m sorry I kissed you,” he settles on, because even though he can’t actually decide if he’s sorry or not, it feels like something he should say.

Steve shakes his head a little. “Buck. I think we both know it wasn’t your fault. If I hadn’t started this all, way back whenever it was…”

“I don’t think you started it. I think it started the first time we met.” He looks down, at where his legs are crossed beneath him and his fingers play with the hem of his PJs. “I don’t think we could have stopped it, really.”

Steve doesn’t reply, just takes one of Bucky’s hands in two of his own, both of them staring at the movement.

“I don’t want to stop talking like we did before,” Bucky says, quietly. “I can’t do that again. Cos it’s not gonna last.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we tried to be friends. It didn’t work. We tried to not see each other. It didn’t work. We tried to be civil and have coffee and we couldn’t even wait that long. It’s not like we can just… _fix_ this.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, rubbing his thumb over the back of Bucky’s hand. He makes a humming noise and then says, “So what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything at the moment. I can’t even think of what to do with your _character,_ let alone you.”

Steve laughs. “What to do with me?” He lifts his knee up onto the couch so he can turn and face Bucky head on. They look at each other again and Steve takes one hand off Bucky’s and wraps it around his neck. Bucky leans into it involuntarily, not realising how much he’s missed Steve, even though it’s only been one day.

It’s nice, like this, everything finally out in the open. They can hold hands without it being weird because they know how they feel about each other, that it doesn’t mean anything but also means exactly what they think it means.

Neither of them have said that they regret what happened.

It was a mess, it was desperate and sad and stupid and still not enough, but Bucky doesn’t think he’ll ever regret a memory that Steve’s in.

“You know what I mean,” Bucky says.

“Well, I mean.” Steve’s fingertips rub the fine hairs at the back of Bucky’s neck. “What do you _want_ to do with me?”

It might be the light, or wishful thinking, but Bucky thinks he sees Steve’s eyes darken for a moment.

“This is ridiculous,” Bucky mutters. “We can’t even have a conversation without me wanting to…”

“Mm?” Steve teases, starting to smile.

Bucky laughs, a little breathless. “Stop it.”

Steve just squeezes his hand and runs his other hand up into Bucky’s hair, scratching at his scalp again, a small action that no one’s ever done to Bucky before but feels so satisfying, and personal to Steve, and these two things are definitely related. Steve’s eyes are all crinkled up again as his smile grows, fuck, he can probably see what he’s doing to Bucky. Has Steve ever had this much power over a person before? Twenty minutes on a Sunday afternoon and Bucky wants to fold, quit his job so he can spend his whole days with Steve, making him pancakes and giving him everything he wants.

He didn’t expect this when he asked Steve to come over. He didn’t know what to expect. He just kind of asked, just done it without thinking. This is the most thinking he’s done in 40 hours, and he knows it’s because Steve is in front of him. Is that why he gives in to him night after night when he’s alone but sometimes finds the will to say no in person?

But then, _then,_ Steve’s hand moves from Bucky’s, goes to his knee, starts sliding up his thigh, and then Steve is leaning in.

“Wait,” Bucky says.

Steve stops, leans back, but keeps his hands where they are. He doesn’t look hurt, just confused. “What?”

“We can’t do it _again_ ,” Bucky says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Steve frowns. “Why not?”

“Because. It was stupid, what we did. It’s too risky.”

Steve takes his hands back, folds his arms across his chest, still looking confused.

Bucky continues, “Just because we slipped up once doesn’t mean we can keep breaking the rules. All the same things apply, it’s just all of that _plus_ we have a secret we have to keep.”

“Are you serious?” Steve asks him, and it’s not incredulous or sarcastic. It’s genuine. Steve wants to know if he’s serious. Steve thinks he might be joking.

“Yeah, I’m serious. I mean, god, Steve, you gotta know how much I want you by now.” He takes both of Steve’s hands in his because it feels weird not to be touching. “You gotta be able to tell. But this is real stuff we’re dealing with. Do you realise how stupid what we did was? I mean, we were in the studio, in someone’s _office_. That’s as reckless as it gets.”

“It’s not like I’m asking you to come back to Peggy’s office with me,” Steve says, sounding pissed off now. “I know that was reckless, but we’re at your apartment. It’s not like anyone is gonna see us.”

“It’s not that simple,” Bucky sighs, looking at their hands as he threads his fingers through Steve’s and lays their palms flat together. “I mean, think about tomorrow. When we’re at work, we can’t flirt, we can’t talk honestly about our lives, we can’t even look at each other like we want to. Do you want to have to go through all that, _and_ hide the fact that we’re together?”

“Yes. Hey,” he says, to get Bucky to look him in the eye. Steve’s face is soft, his eyes warm and kind like always. Bucky wants to cry. Why does he keep wanting to cry when he looks at Steve? “Yes. I do. It would be hard, but I would do it. For you."

Bucky just starts shaking his head, drops his hands and gets up. He walks into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water and Steve follows, leans against the counter and asks, “You don’t think it’s worth it?”

“That’s not what it’s about.”

“Then what?”

Bucky turns around, slamming the glass against the counter so hard that some water spills out. “You want to have that kind of relationship? Is that what you want? It’s not just sneaking around at work, it’s sneaking around _everywhere._ We can’t go on dates. We can’t get breakfast in the morning. We can’t be seen going into each other’s buildings by the paparazzi. We can’t kiss or hold hands in public, we can’t go dancing or wine tasting or even play fucking laser tag. We can’t do _anything_ together.” His voice starts getting louder as he gets angrier and more frustrated. He knows Natasha is in the other room but he doesn’t care. “Is that the kind of life you want? You wanna have to hide who you are and who you’re with? Because that doesn’t sound like a relationship to me. That sounds like a hook up. Is that what you want?”

Steve looks at him with his lips pressed together, and then shakes his head. “No. That’s not what I want.” His gaze falls to Bucky’s red PJs. “You’re right. This isn’t just a hook up. I wasn’t lying when I said I care about you.”

“I wasn’t either.”

They stand there in the moment, surrounded by the decision they’ve just made. Bucky’s mind returns to Friday.

“Steve.”

Steve’s face grows pained. He squints at Bucky’s pyjama pants, pressing his lips together so hard they turn white. And then, “I should go.”

He turns to leave, but Bucky grabs his arm and pulls him back. Steve turns again, looks at him, and Bucky looks back for a moment before pulling Steve into a hug. Steve laughs under his breath at the memory of the last time they hugged, after that night three months ago. They both remember everything. No amount of alcohol could make them forget a night like that. 

“I still mean what I said. I don’t want to stop being your friend this time,” Bucky says, allowing his hands to press against the strip of skin between where Steve’s shirt is rucked up from the embrace and his jeans. How is he always so warm? How does he always feel better than Bucky could have ever imagined even though they’ve touched before?

“Okay,” Steve says, sounding like he’s giving in instead of agreeing. Bucky knows that Steve wants to run away and regroup like last time but Bucky holds him even tighter, squeezes him until Steve says he can’t breathe, because Steve has to know that Bucky wants him here, that even though he’s seen the real Steve – something Bucky’s not sure many people have experienced – he’s not going anywhere. That this decision not to be together isn’t a rejection, but an expression of acceptance. Bucky thinks he wants Steve forever, and he’s trying to make that possible.

After Steve leaves, Nat comes out of her room, gives Bucky the ‘raised eyebrows but no questions’ look. Bucky just rolls his eyes tiredly, says, “I’ll definitely tell you tomorrow,” and goes into his room to write that damn storyline.

* * *

Peggy seems to be happy with what he’s written in their meeting Monday morning. She loves the mid-season finale, ending on emotion instead of a plot twist like usual. And the audience is loving episode two, although Bucky misses the hashtags. Cap doesn’t wear anything special in this episode – what was he expecting, #CapsBrownPants?

 But she stops him while he’s explaining his plan for the rest of the season. They’ve already established that the two villains, Loki and Ultron, will team up to fight the Avengers (Bucky’s already come up with five jokes Ultron can make about Loki’s hair), and Tony will attempt to sacrifice himself in order to stop this. To fit the Cap/Soldier relationship into this, Bucky has written that instead of Tony sacrificing himself for the Avengers, it should be Cap sacrificing himself for the Soldier. The Soldier would then take over as ‘Captain America’ because without this public symbol, the city of New York would descend into chaos.

“Bucky,” Peggy says, looking more than a little concerned. “That’s extremely morbid.”

“See, I was gonna say, in the next season it turns out he wasn’t dead at all.”

“ _Still._ We can’t end the season with one of the main characters dying. This is a sit-com. The reason Tony is going to try to sacrifice himself is because it’s funny. Afterwards, he’s going to turn around and say, ‘Oh shit, looks like I care about you guys after all.’ I don’t think it would be funny with Cap dying and the Soldier trying to mourn him.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say. He’d worked all of Sunday on that storyline.

Peggy sighs. “I know it was unreasonable to ask you to come up with this over one weekend. Just, think it over. We’ll meet on Friday and you can tell me your ideas then. But just – don’t kill anyone, okay?”

Bucky laughs. “Didn’t think anyone would ever say that to me. But, yeah, okay. Thanks, Peggy.”

Bucky wanders down onto the set after the meeting, sitting in his chair and settling in to watch the filming. Steve is there in his ‘civilian’ costume, and Bucky is pleased to see that the famous hat is back, along with some sunglasses. Seriously – do the costume department not have any other inconspicuous outfits except for a hat and sunglasses?

Steve looks over and gives him a wave and a smile while his face is being powdered. Bucky grins and gives him a little wave back. Even though they’d had a good talk yesterday, he’d still been worried about it being weird. He’s always worried about it being weird, keeps expecting everything to just crash like last time.

For the next few hours he watches Steve and the cast act out the scenes he’d written for the mid season finale, starting with the humour before shit goes down. A new hero has entered, Magneto, with the ability to move metal, and he’s playing ‘stop hitting yourself’ with Tony. The Winter Soldier quietly puts on a hoodie.

And then it’s time for the final scene. At the end of the night the other heroes go to bed, but Cap and the Soldier grab another beer before sitting on the couch together. They start talking, say those lines that Bucky had written and run with Steve on Friday.

“ _Cap. I’ve been looking for you.”_

“ _I’ve been looking for you too. About earlier.”_

“ _No, that’s okay. It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have said what I said.”_

_“That’s not what I mean. I wanted to say… I feel the same.”_

_“You do?”_

_“Yeah. I have for a while now.”_

The Soldier looks so surprised, so completely overwhelmed for a moment. Bucky almost laughs, remembering his monotone reading of the lines; she’s a much better actor than him. “ _I gotta admit, that’s nice to hear. But it doesn’t change anything. I mean, all the reasons Iron Man was talking about? Why Avengers can’t date anyone, let alone each other? They still apply.”_

_“I know that. You think I don’t know that? That I don’t think about it every day, every second? You think I haven’t kissed you in my dreams, woken up feeling so lonely that I think it’s a nightmare?”_

And then Steve looks up. Away from the Soldier, across the studio. He looks at Bucky.

“Cut. Steve, what are you doing?”

“Sorry,” Steve says, still looking at Bucky. Bucky looks right back. What was it about this moment that made Steve break character? He’s never done that before.

Steve finally looks away. “Sorry. Let’s go again.”

_“I feel that way too. But you know the risks.”_

_“I do. I’m just not sure I care anymore.”_

And Steve looks up again.

“Cut! Steve, what’s going on?”

“Can we take five?”

Fury sighs melodramatically. “Fine. But you better start concentrating when you get back. Go drink some cucumber water or some shit.”

Steve nods, and, after staring at Bucky for a few seconds more, walks out of the set and into the hallway.

Bucky follows him out, follows him up the hallway until they’re alone and Steve finally stops, turning to Bucky with fire in his eyes.

“What?” Bucky asks him, clueless.

“I said that to you,” Steve says, voice strained, squinting again like he’s confused and angry and sad all at the same time. “That thing about kissing you in my dreams. You didn’t make that up, I said that to you.”

“Are you talking about intellectual copyright? Cos I can get you a writer’s credit if you want –”

Steve grabs Bucky by the shoulders. He squeezes him, fingers digging into Bucky’s hoodie like he doesn’t know what to do with him. He just stares into Bucky’s eyes without blinking.

“Steve? What’s going on? Talk to me.”

And Steve lets go, walks away a few steps and walks back, folds his arms across his chest and unfolds them again. “And the thing about the risks,” he says. “That’s us, too.”

Bucky swallows. So that’s why Steve was so freaked out. He thought that Bucky was writing about them, and writing them never being together.

He’s touched, in a weird way, that Steve is offended. He must think Bucky is comparing them being fired to the Soldier and Cap being _killed._

At least Bucky finally has an answer to his question. Steve thinks about him.

“I’m not writing about us,” Bucky says, looking up into the slightly taller man’s eyes. “Don’t read into this.”

“But –”

“Stop freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out.”

“ _Stop freaking out._ ”

Steve takes a deep breath. When he exhales, his face is softer. “Okay.”

Bucky smiles. “There ya go. God, if news got out that Steve Rogers, the guy every man wants to be, freaked out on set about his lines…”

“Fuck you,” Steve says, but he’s smiling too. This is the first time Bucky has heard Steve swear, and he’s lying if he says it’s not hot. 

“I mean, you had to take a _five_ and everything…”

“Shut up!” Steve moans, shoving Bucky in the shoulder. Touching him, he’s constantly trying to touch him.

They both end up grinning at each other. Bucky asks, “Hey, we still on for that coffee after work?”

“What coffee?”

“You know, the one we arranged on Friday before all that other shit happened.”

Steve’s eyes instinctually go down to where Bucky’s hickey is sticking out of his t-shirt. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Cool.”

“I should get back.”

Bucky nods. He feels like hugging Steve or something, seeing as that’s what they seem to do whenever they say goodbye these days. But no, this is going to be a normal friendship from now on. (Bucky does the air quotes in his mind. A ‘normal’ friendship.)

They head back to set. 

* * *

 

_“Cap?”_

_“So, we could die. So superheroes with loved ones are more at risk. So I don’t – and CAN’T – know your real name. This doesn’t feel like living. I mean, I’m DYING, I’m dying to just…”_

_“What?”_

_“To…”_

_[SOLDIER looks deep into CAP’s eyes. She sees the answer that is there: he wants to kiss her. It is clear on her face that she wants to kiss him too. But she knows they can’t. SOLDIER puts her hand on CAP’s face, an embrace but also a way of holding him back.]_

_“Me too. God, this blows.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_[CAP’s voice is cracked. SOLDIER is trying to relieve the tension but it is pretty clear that CAP is in love with her; there’s no way of relieving the tension for him.]_

_“I should go to bed.”_

_[CAP nods.] “Yeah, okay.”_

_[SOLDIER strokes CAP’s face with her thumb a couple of times before picking up her beer, throwing it in the recycling bin from an impressive distance and leaving the room. CAP watches her go, a pained look on his face, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. His heart is breaking, and there is no one around to remain composed for. He finally lets all of his emotions to the surface, and a tear makes its way down his face._

_[The coffee table opens up and out comes a box of tissues – from JARVIS.]_

_“There, there, sir.”_

* * *

 

When shooting is over, Steve stands talking to Fury for a few moments. Bucky makes his way over, stands patiently behind them while they talk about something to do with Cap’s posture. He hears Steve complain, “But he’s relaxed!” before Fury says, “He’s a damn soldier. They don’t slouch.”

They talk for a few more minutes before Steve sighs and nods. Fury walks off and Steve sees Bucky and smiles.

“For the record,” Bucky says as they walk towards each other, “I think Cap should slouch.”

“ _Thank_ you.”

“I can write it in the directions for the next episode, if you want.”

Steve grins. “That’s so passive aggressive. I love it. You ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

They go down to the parking lot and agree to meet at a Starbucks downtown, taking their separate cars. On the way, Bucky’s mind wanders to the earlier filming. In the script, it had said, “ _It is pretty clear that CAP is in love”_. And yet, Steve hadn’t changed his face. He’d looked at the Soldier the _exact same way_ he looks at Bucky. Didn’t do a more exaggerated version or anything. And Bucky knows he was thinking about him, because he’d realised about the lines. Could it be possible…?

No, of course not. He’s getting ahead of himself. Thinks too much about the same person. Has to get out more.

He parks his car down the street and sees Steve getting out of his. They walk up to the Starbucks and Steve orders some kind of tea, while Bucky gets a black coffee and puts four sugar packets in.

Steve sees this and immediately judges. “How do you still have teeth??”

They sit upstairs, away from everyone else. “I don’t do it all the time. I’m just tired today. And all days. Okay, I do it all the time. But I don’t eat any sweet stuff, so this is like, my daily sugar intake in one go.”

“You don’t like sweet stuff? Man, I love it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. That was the hardest thing for me to kick when I got into shape. I had to fade it out, like, eat a little bit less every day for like a month.”

Bucky laughs. “That’s so weird. I wouldn’t peg you for a sweet tooth. I look at you and I think, that guy likes steaks and beer and bacon.”

“I mean, I like all those things fine. I just like chocolate cake more.”

They keep talking like this, light stuff that doesn’t mean anything, getting to know each other after all those months of doing the opposite. It should feel like a date, but it doesn’t. Maybe because it’s in the daytime. Maybe because they just came from work (though that hasn’t stopped them before, they did stuff in an _office_ ). Probably because of Bucky thinking about that thing again.

Steve couldn’t be in love with him, right? He feels embarrassed even thinking about it. As they talk, Bucky realises he barely knows Steve at all, only had to hear a story about him throwing up at Coney Island to fall for him. And Steve barely knows him in return. There’s no way you can fall in love that fast. He’s so self-conscious, feels like Steve can hear him thinking about it, that he’s leaning back, he’s treating Steve like a friend. This would be a good thing, the fact that he’s able to treat Steve as a friend, if he could stop thinking about whether he’s in love with Steve back.

They finish their coffee and stand up to go. As they leave, Steve says, “Hey. Starbucks. Star-BUCKs.”

“You’re such a fucking nerd,” Bucky says, trying not to smile, because Steve is _grinning_ at his terrible pun. “I used to work at a Starbucks, they made that joke every single day, so don’t start thinking you’re funny.”

But Steve doesn’t stop smiling. And Bucky doesn’t want him to.

They get to the parking lot and it’s awkward for a second as they try to decide whether to hug, or handshake, or _something._ Eventually they just high-five. It’s lame as hell.

“This was fun,” Steve says, leaning back against his car, white shirt bright in the sun.

“Yeah.”

“It’s cool that we can do this, you know.” He motions between the two of them. “Friends.”

“Yeah.” Like Bucky hadn’t been theorising Steve’s facial expressions the whole time.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gets into his car, does a little wave and drives off. Back to his apartment, where Bucky had been, and may never be again.

* * *

When Bucky gets home, he can see that something is different. He doesn’t know if it’s the atmosphere, or a change in the light. Or the fact that Natasha is standing outside the building with two suitcases.

“Whole building is being bug-bombed,” she says, clearly pissed off.

“What?” Bucky looks around him for the super, the landlord, _anyone_ who is supposed to be in charge. “They can’t just do that without telling us! Can they?”

“Apparently it’s been in the newsletter for weeks.”  
  
“There’s a newsletter?”

Natasha shrugs. “Must be that thing I always throw in the trash.” Bucky looks at her in accusation and she throws up her hands. “It’s in Comic Sans, Bucky. _Comic Sans._ Like I’m gonna read that!”

Bucky sits down on the steps in defeat, and Natasha joins him.

“How long until we can get back inside?”

“Friday.”

“Where are we supposed to go?” he asks. “Hotels in LA are so expensive, and it’s almost Christmas. They’re going to be fully booked.”

“Well, I’m going to stay with Sam. I’m sure he’d let you sleep on his couch. It’s nice, got like, three different reclining bits.”

Bucky feels bad staying with someone he barely knows, but he’s really got no other choice. So he throws his suitcase – which Nat had hastily filled with some of his clothes and toiletries – into Sam’s Land Rover, sits in the back, and sulks more than a twenty-six-year-old man should.

* * *

He gets into work the next morning looking like he has a hangover, or the plague. But he doesn’t. He’s just had a night at Sam’s.

Firstly, there was the couch. Turns out price does _not_ mean comfort. That thing had so many springs, it was a pleasure to sit on, but a nightmare to lie on. Bucky spent the whole night tossing and turning. 

Secondly, there was Nat and Sam. Nat is Bucky’s best friend and he’s so happy that she’s in love, but my _god_ were they disgusting to be around. The whole night they were flirting voraciously, looking the entire time like they wanted Bucky to leave so they could suck each other’s faces off. Bucky went to the bathroom about five times in three hours just to get away from it. That’s the last thing that he needs, to see happy couples.

Thirdly, his mind had wandered at night. Well, it doesn’t really count as wandering if it goes to the same place it does every night. He’d thought about where the hell he could stay instead, and the obvious answer had popped into his mind – Steve’s.

Steve had a smaller place, but his couch was the most comfortable Bucky’s butt had ever experienced in its life. He almost cried, lying on Sam’s medieval torture device and thinking about Steve’s leather cloud.

But then obviously, that would be weird. Staying with Steve? That’s like, basic entrapment. Not Having Sex With Someone 101 – don’t sleep over.

But _then,_ wouldn’t it be weird if he didn’t ask? If romantic feelings had never been involved in his relationship with Steve, if they were purely friends, wouldn’t staying with him be the obvious option?

_But then,_ would Steve think he was coming on to him? Asking to stay with him like that? Sure, Bucky didn’t have any other friends in LA to ask, but he could just suck it up and pay $1000 on a hotel.

Bucky decides he’ll wait and see. Complain to Steve about Nat and Sam and see what happens, see if he offers. Refuse a little, make it seem like he’s grudging until Steve insists (because of course, Steve will insist).

And that’s what he does. He tells Steve the story Nat had told him about Sam throwing the condom across the room without tying it properly and Steve has the same reaction that Bucky’d had: “OH GOD, STOP!!! STOP!!!!!”

“You have to stay with me,” Steve says, shaking his head. “That’s unacceptable.”

“Stay with you? No, I can’t…”

“No, it’ll be fine. I have a couch, don’t I?”

Bucky imagines if Steve didn’t have a couch, and they had to share the bed, and then has to stop because it’s fucking two in the afternoon.

“I don’t know…”

“Bucky. C’mon. That was the worst story I’ve ever heard. I’m _insisting_ you stay with me.”

Bucky heaves a sigh. “Well, if you insist…”

He drops by Sam’s after work to pick up his suitcase, giving him the “it’s not you, it’s me, well actually it’s your couch” speech. Sam looks downright offended at this, saying, “I dropped $1000 on that couch and you’re telling me you can’t sleep on it for more than one night? Are you crazy?” He then lay on the couch and, looking pained, said, “See? It’s fine! Totally worth the money.” Bucky told him he had a bad back and apologised for offending his couch.

He arrives at Steve’s at 6p.m. on the Tuesday. Steve buzzes him up and opens the apartment door with a smile, saying, “Welcome to Casa del Steve!” 

“Do you only have one joke?” Bucky asks him, dropping his bag next to the sofa and flopping down. _Sweet Jesus, that’s comfort._

“Yeah, but it’s a good one. Have you had dinner?”

“Nope.”

“I was gonna order a pizza, you want in?”

“Oh, hell yeah.” Bucky flips over onto his back.

“Are you vegetarian? Or vegan?”

“Do I _look_ vegetarian or vegan?”

Bucky’s staring at the ceiling but he can hear the frown in Steve’s voice. “Well, they don’t all look a certain way, and it’s not an _insult –”_

“Oh my god, okay! No, I’m not. Just don’t give me pineapples. Or olives. Or mushrooms. Basically any vegetables.”

Steve says, “Ha!” like this is the funniest goddamn thing he’s ever heard, and sits down on the armchair next to the couch. “You don’t like vegetables?”

“I do, but not on pizza. It’s like, it _ruins_ it for me.”

“Pineapple isn’t a vegetable.”

“Fruit on pizza? What idiot came up with that?”

“I believe it was the Hawaiians that came up with Hawaiian pizza.”

“Well, they’re wrong.”

Steve orders a large meat feast and they open some beers, flicking through the TV guide. “Oh my god,” Bucky says when they see _Stark Television_ , playing a re-run of _The Avengers,_ episode one. “I’ve never actually watched it.”

“Me neither,” Steve says, clicking on the show.

Immediately Steve’s face fills the screen. Steve jumps. “Whoa! I’m huge!” 

Bucky holds back a ‘that’s what she said’.

“ _I hate to tell you this,”_ on-screen Steve says, _“but that advert in the paper was actually a joke.”_

_“I know,_ ” replies the Soldier, a woman Bucky now knows as Jamie (they bonded while stealing more food). “ _But I need a job, and I figured you’d all be too polite to turn me away.”_

_“Hah. That’s good. I’m Captain America, but everyone calls me Cap.”_

_“I’m the Winter Soldier. Nice to meet you.”_

_“You too. Did you come up with that name? It’s awesome.”_

_“Yeah, well, I thought of the two most terrifying things. War, and being cold.”_

_“As a former soldier who was once frozen for seventy years, I agree.”_

_“What?”_  
  
“Nothing. It’s a long story.”

Cap looks nothing like Steve – his perfect skin, his constant use of his charming smile and his voluminous hair – except for one thing. His eyes. He’s looking at the Soldier with that look he’d seen when they were filming the episode. It’s strange knowing that people all across the country are watching this episode with them, seeing this same look and thinking, _Wow. He’s really into her._

“It’s funny,” Steve says, quietly. “Watching this. Is that really what I look like when I…?”

“When you what?”

Steve shakes his head and laughs. “It’s kind of inappropriate.”

“Tell me.”

They’re sitting together on the couch now, feet on the coffee table and shoes off, and Steve turns his head towards Bucky and says, “Well, this was like the first week of filming. And this scene was like, the third day or something, right? So… when I was shooting, I was thinking about you.”

Bucky’s heart almost explodes. All these weeks of wondering and it’s true. Steve thinks about him when he’s shooting, when he’s acting, when he’s being Cap, when he’s trying to look like he’s “ _a man who is awestruck, but trying to hide it, because he thinks she must be too good to be true”._

_Awestruck._ That’s what Steve is when he looks at Bucky. _Awestruck._

He wonders what this means about Cap being in love with the Soldier.

Bucky clears his throat. “Cool.”

Steve shakes his head again, looking into his own eyes on the screen. “I kind of look like an idiot.”

“I think you look amazing.”

It’s out of his mouth before he can help it. But Steve _does_ look amazing. That’s the look Bucky gets fifty times a day from Steve, and there’s no way in hell he looks like an idiot. That’s the look that makes Bucky’s heart speed up, his palms sweat, his speech stutter. That’s Bucky’s favourite look in the world.

“Thanks,” Steve says, taking a deliberate sip of his beer. “Always nice to hear from a fan.”

“Wow, you really don’t have a lot of jokes. You’re not gonna do finger guns again, are you?”

Steve snorts.

The pizza comes, and they watch the second episode of _The Avengers,_ because they’re both curious and feeling a little narcissistic. Steve laughs out loud at the bit where Iron Man insists they film a TV spot to promote their actions, and he sets up a wind machine to “make it look like we’re flying because flying is cool and it’s lame that you guys can’t do it, not you Thor, you’re my favourite”. Black Widow’s hair keeps getting in Falcon’s face and Thor has to tie his up in a bun. Bucky is proud of Steve’s laugh. He wrote that bit.

When it’s time to go to bed, Steve starts taking the cushions off the couch, and Bucky is confused until Steve pulls out a _full size bed._ Bucky is so happy he could cry. Steve fetches some sheets and they wrangle them onto the bed (they’re fitted, so it takes a while and Bucky gets embarrassingly out of breath).

Steve stands for a moment, admiring their handiwork, before saying, “Do you wanna use the bathroom?”

“Uh, yeah, I gotta brush my teeth.”

“Okay. You go first.”

“Why can’t we go together? It’s just brushing our teeth.”

Steve looks a little uncomfortable but says, “Yeah, okay.”

Bucky grabs his toothbrush and toothpaste and follows Steve to the bathroom. They start brushing their teeth, trying to avoid eye contact in the mirror. Bucky understands why Steve was so hesitant to have them doing this at the same time – it’s intimate. It’s like they’re a couple who lives together. Bucky scans his eyes over Steve’s toiletries: a ridiculous amount of cleanser, moisturiser, and face masks, with some deodorant by the sink.

This makes him sad for some reason. Just looking at Steve’s stuff makes him sad. He gets now why Steve was so obsessed with Bucky’s potted plant. His stuff is him. And he can’t have either.

They spit, and Bucky says, “I gotta pee,” meaning for Steve to leave because that’s not something friends do together. After he’s done, he washes his hands and takes out his contacts, putting his glasses on.

“Woah,” Steve says when he sees Bucky.

“What?”

“You’re wearing glasses.”

“Yeah.”

“You wear contacts?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem…?”

“No, it’s just.” Steve’s eyes crinkle up. “You look so different.” He hesitates, before asking, “Can I try them on?”

Bucky rolls his eyes at the question all glasses-wearers are plagued with. But he can’t say no to Steve. “Fine.” He takes them off and passes them over.

“Oh, _shit,_ ” Steve says with the glasses on, looking down at his hands. “Your eyesight is terrible.”

“Yeah, well, that’s why I need my glasses.” He tries to grab them back, but Steve is trying to look at more things, walking backwards until Bucky “looks like a big blob”.

“I look like a blob all the time. Come on, Steve.”

“Okay, fine.” Steve is about to take them off when a thought strikes Bucky.

“Hang on. Keep them on.” He takes his phone out of his pocket and says, “Say cheese.”

Steve holds two thumbs up with the most ridiculous smile Bucky has ever seen. Bucky takes the picture, and Steve immediately wants to see it.

“Huh. I think I look cute.” He takes the glasses off and hands them to Bucky. “What do you think? You think I look cute?”

Bucky has four beers in him – he’s barely tipsy, but still, it’s his excuse for saying what he says next. “I think you always look cute.”

He can’t see how Steve reacts, because his glasses are still in his hand, but he hears a throat clearing and, “Thanks, Buck. G’night.” Bucky puts his glasses back on in time to see the back of Steve’s head as he walks into his room and closes the door.

Bucky chides himself for being so reckless. If he’s going to stay with Steve for three nights he needs to keep it in his pants, and keep his words to himself. Steve knows Bucky thinks he’s cute. Bucky doesn’t need to keep saying it.

Still, he sets the photo as Steve's contact picture.

He gets changed into those red PJs, because he figures Steve will get a kick out of them in the morning. He stares at the ceiling, trying not to think about Steve, because doing what he usually does when that train of thought begins is inappropriate in someone else’s home.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)

The next morning, he’s woken up by the sound of Steve’s blender. Bucky sits up, rubs his hand through his hair and squints around. “What?”

“Morning,” Steve calls. “Want a smoothie?”

Bucky turns blearily towards the noise. “What?”

Steve laughs. “Someone’s not a morning person.”

“I’m not any kind of person in the morning.” He manages to get up, walks into the bathroom and brushes his teeth – Steve doesn’t need to know the extent of his morning breath. This wakes him up a little and he goes to sit at Steve’s kitchen island.

“Smoothie?” Steve asks again, pouring his own into a cup.

“No thanks. I don’t usually have breakfast.”

Steve gasps melodramatically. “But it’s the most important meal of the day!”

“Fuck off. I eat when I get to work.”

“Nah. You’re in my house, you gotta eat some breakfast.” He puts down his smoothie and opens his cupboards.

Bucky starts smiling. “Stop, c’mon. You don’t need to do that.”

Steve pulls out a box of pancake mix from his cupboard, turns to Bucky with a raised eyebrow, watches Bucky’s arguments crumble. Without a word, Steve starts making the pancakes, smiling to himself.

He’s smiling because he thinks he won. He convinced Bucky to eat breakfast with his proposition of pancakes. But Bucky’s smile had slipped away and he’d stopped fighting because… this is his dream. He’s thought about this before. Making pancakes with Steve, the most domestic of all the breakfast foods. But he’d always been the one making them for Steve because he wanted to make him happy.

It’s too early for this shit.

“You got any coffee?” Bucky asks, sliding off his stool.

“Yeah, pot’s on the counter.”

Bucky spots it and starts to fill it up. They do their own thing for a few minutes, Steve cooking what looks like two pancakes (enough for one – of course he’s doing all this just for Bucky) and Bucky watching the coffee brew. The two smells combining – it smells like the lazy Saturday mornings he’d always dreamed of. Black coffee and syrup, with his PJs and glasses and socks on the tiled floor. It’s embarrassing, but one he’d made himself the pancakes, brewed the coffee alone, just for the smells. It had felt like he wanted something more from it, when he closed his eyes, but he could never think of what it was.

Steve slides into this fantasy like a missing piece. His white shirt, his boxer shorts, spatula in hand, hair hanging down on his forehead in a way he’d never seen before. Bucky wants nothing more than to push it back with his fingers, wrap his arms around Steve from behind, watch him bake from over his shoulder.

It pulls at him. He has to walk away to keep from doing it. It’s a section of his heart that hasn’t been touched in a while – the idea of a happy future. So far he’s wanted to kiss Steve, wanted to fuck Steve, wanted to be with him – but watching him like this, he wants to be with him _forever._

Steve watches Bucky eat the pancakes. It’s a bit weird, but Bucky doesn’t mind, because he’d be staring at Steve too. Steve leans against the counter and drinks his smoothie and watches Bucky eat and sip his coffee. It’s content for a moment. Silences are always comfortable with Steve.

They both shower soon after. When they drive into work in one car because Steve says “it just makes sense”, Bucky has to sit on his hands to keep from reaching for one of Steve’s because it feels so much like what his life should be.

* * *

After work they meet in the parking lot and drive home. Watching Steve drive is kind of fascinating, like he shouldn’t be able to do such a normal thing when he’s so special. It makes Bucky think back to that night that wasn’t a date but really was, when Steve told him about the Cyclone. Things like that, things about Steve’s life that prove he’s real and not just a figment of the dirtiest parts of Bucky’s imagination, those are the things that make Bucky feel like his job is in jeopardy.

They hang out the same as the night before, Steve insisting on making dinner. He presents it to Bucky with some fancy Italian name Bucky instantly forgets, looking nervous like it’s not going to be good enough. But it’s the best damn pasta Bucky has ever eaten.

He tells Steve this and Steve says, “You’re making that up.”

“No, I’m not. The only pasta I eat is those little microwaveable plastic things you can get from gas stations. My standards are very low so this is genuinely blowing my fuckin’ mind.”

Steve smiles, obviously proud of himself, and Bucky smiles too. It’s a good day, a busy one that has him yawning from 7pm onwards. At around 11, they brush their teeth separately and head to bed.

But no matter how hard he tries, Bucky can’t sleep.

This happens sometimes. Sometimes he just lies there until 4am, 5am, 6am. It’s not Steve this time, it’s just who Bucky is. He thinks too much. Sometimes he just can’t turn it off.

At around 4am, he gets up to get a glass of water, sitting at the kitchen island to drink it in the darkness. He tries to keep quiet so as not to wake Steve, but he needn’t have bothered, as a few minutes later, Steve comes wandering into the kitchen with the wildest bedhead Bucky has ever seen.

And he looks so beautiful. It’s like he’s in his purest form. Completely vulnerable, cheeks a little flushed from tossing and turning.

He gives Bucky a sleepy smile. “Hey. Heard you get up.”

“Yeah. Can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

“Everything okay?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, just. I dunno. Stress, I guess.” He opens up a cupboard and takes out a glass bottle, then he turns on a light and Bucky can see that it’s whiskey.

“You want some?” Steve asks, seeing Bucky’s gaze.

“Why are you drinking at 4am?”

Steve shrugs. “Helps me sleep. I don’t do it unless it’s really late. And I think 4am counts as really late when you have to get up at 7:30.”

Bucky doesn’t try to argue with Steve’s logic, just nods and takes the drink Steve hands him. They clink glasses and drink. Bucky coughs a little, always been more of a wine-lover. He hasn’t had whiskey in, what, six years? It’s harder than he remembers.

When he looks down, Steve is refilling their glasses. Bucky wants to say that he’s had enough but there’s a vibe Steve’s giving off, like something’s bothering him. He didn’t ask why Bucky couldn’t sleep, and the speed at which he’s pouring these drinks is a little concerning. But Bucky keeps drinking them, because Steve won’t look him in the eye and if he said no, Steve would be drinking alone.

After five drinks, Steve stops. Bucky’s throat is grateful. He drinks the rest of his water and stands up to go get some more – and that’s when he realises that he’s drunk, because he almost falls over.

“Whoa!” Steve says as he grabs him. “Watch out.”

“Sorry. It hit me.” Bucky leans into Steve’s grip on his arm for half a second before pulling away to get his water.

“That’s okay. That’s good. Means you can sleep now, right?”

Bucky forgot how smooth Steve’s voice sounds when he’s been drinking, almost monotone.

“Well, I actually have a hard time sleeping when I’ve been drinking,” Bucky says. He turns around and Steve is frowning at him. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

For once, he actually tells the truth, no matter how inappropriate. “I didn’t want you to be drinking alone.”

Steve smiles that grateful smile again, the one that gets into Bucky’s chest, the one that lets him know how much Steve cares. First the pancakes, and now this?

Bucky leans against the counter, finds that pull again as Steve takes a step closer. Not enough to be dangerous, but enough to be suggestive. But now Bucky’s not strong enough to stop himself from letting him.

“Do you remember the last time we were drinking together?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, I do."

“Do you? Do you remember what I said?”

“Uh.” Bucky clears his throat. “Yeah. I remember.”

“Tell me.” Steve takes another step towards Bucky. Bucky is just staring at him, slack jawed. “What did I say?”

“You said you wanted to kiss me. That you couldn’t stop thinking about me.” Bucky’s voice comes out like an exhale, a shallow breath.

“That’s right. I said I thought one kiss could make me stop.”

Bucky nods. There’s a noticeable height difference with Bucky leaning like this, his legs apart. Steve steps in between them so they’re inches apart.

“Fuck, Steve,” Bucky says, closing his eyes. “Come on.”

“Look at me,” Steve whispers. He says it again, and again, until Bucky opens his eyes to one of those moments where the breath is knocked out of him by Steve’s face. Those are happening way too often for his liking. But Steve looks perfect now, in the dim kitchen with his hair sticking up. He looked perfect before making the pancakes, looked perfect in the hallway of Stark Studios, looked perfect in front of that computer screen in Peggy’s office. So many different kinds of perfection, and all of them present in Steve.

“That didn’t stop me,” Steve says, starting to trail his fingers up and down Bucky’s arm, giving him goose bumps. “I still think about you all the time. I still dream about you. Why do you think I couldn’t sleep?”

“Steve…”

“Because dreaming isn’t enough when you’re right outside my bedroom.” He takes Bucky’s face in one hand, wraps the other around his waist. “I need to… to touch you,” he breathes, pulling Bucky closer so they’re flush together. Bucky can hear his heart pounding, is sure that Steve can feel it. “Would you let me kiss you again?”

Bucky leans their foreheads together, tries to breathe in through his nose, out through his mouth. “I thought we’d been through this.”

“I know, I know,” Steve groans, curling his fingers to scratch the small of Bucky’s back, “but it’s hard.”

Bucky is about to ask if that’s a fucking pun when he doesn’t have to. Steve pushes their hips together and Bucky has to close his eyes for a moment. They’re so close. Bucky’s entire body starts to prickle with sweat.

He feels his resolve slipping, and he’s about to push Steve away when Steve says, “James.”

Bucky has no idea what it is about that that’s so fucking hot, but it is. He leans his head back on the cupboard and squeezes his eyes shut when Steve starts to kiss his neck lightly, pulling up his shirt to trail a hand down his stomach.

“Steve,” he says again, but it comes out weak. He can feel Steve smiling. “Steve,” he tries again, and this time Steve lifts his head to look him in the eye.

“Just one more kiss. Then I’ll stop.”

Bucky blinks at him. Steve doesn’t appear to be joking. “Are you kidding?”

Steve shakes his head. Bucky pushes him away and Steve backs up a step. “What?”

“You seriously think that one kiss will do it?”

Steve nods, looking like the picture of innocence, looking exactly like he did that last time they were drinking and Steve said the exact same thing. They’re back where they started.

“Steve, we’ve kissed before. Do you remember that?”

Steve starts smiling at the memory, reading the cues wrong. “Yeah, I remember that.”

“I don’t think this is the kind of thing you just… stop.”

Steve thinks for a second before moving back in close. “Maybe this time, it’s not just one _kiss_ …” He runs his hands down Bucky’s waist to grab at his ass and push their hips together again. God, does he always have to be such a fucking tease?

“I told you I didn’t want a hook up.” He manages to push Steve away properly this time, walks a few steps away from him so there’s distance between them.

Steve groans in frustration. “Not a hook up. Just once. Don’t you want to know?”

“Know what?”

“How good it could be?”

Fuck yeah, he does. But that’s not the point. He struggles to create coherent sentences, his head fuzzy. “Steve… you don’t have as much control as you think you do. If you did, you wouldn’t be doin’ this right now. You already got your one kiss… and a whole lot more. Shouldn’t you have stopped by now if it were going to work?”

“That’s what I’m saying. Maybe we need to take more drastic action.” He’s practically drooling, lust written all over his face and body.

Bucky rubs his eyes. “God. Okay. I’m gonna…” He folds his arms across his chest, trying to look serious, but he’s drunk and horny and it’s incredibly obvious. “Let’s say you feel as strongly for me as I do for you. And let me tell you… one kiss, one _anything,_ is never going to be enough. Because I can’t imagine that ever being enough for me. And right now I’m thinking a hell of a lot more clearly than you are.”

The tension changes as Steve starts to frown, looks down, thinks this over, and then nods. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods again, not looking Bucky in the eye, turning his back. “Yeah.”

Bucky isn’t sure what to do. Does he, like, hug him or something? He starts to walk towards Steve, rubs a hand up and down his back because it looks like he’s upset.

“Sorry,” Steve says, still not turning round. “I did it again.”

“Don’t apologise. You don’t know how much I have to struggle to be the clear headed one.”

Steve laughs a little. “Right. I guess I just always forget… how much you mean to me.”

Bucky doesn’t respond, has no idea what to say, just keeps rubbing Steve’s back, up and down.

Steve keeps talking. “You know, that time in Peggy’s office… I know you saw my face afterwards. That was me realising that I can’t stop, I can’t just be done with you like that. I guess this was me trying to prove that wrong.” He turns around, takes Bucky’s outstretched hand and holds it in two of his own. “I failed.” He looks up into Bucky’s eyes through his lashes. “You really think you want me as much as I want you?”

Bucky just nods. 

“I think you’re wrong.” Steve presses Bucky’s hand to his mouth, Bucky feeling Steve’s lips against his skin, glad to have that feeling again at least once tonight. He can’t do anything but shake his head in response.

“Where’s that smart mouth now?” Steve teases, smiling. “Huh?”

They lock eyes for a few more moments before Steve lets Bucky’s hand go. He seems happier, maybe even a little cocky. Bucky wonders why Steve seems to love reassurance that Bucky is into him, too.

“Goodnight,” Steve says, and walks into his bedroom.

Bucky stares after him for a solid five minutes. After that, he tries to get to sleep again, but lies awake for the next few hours listening to Steve’s soft snores.

* * *

The next night is about the same. Bucky can’t sleep again. Today they’d been filming the scene where Iron Man gets Cap drunk so he can try and steal his shield for an experiment. For once, Cap was different to Steve – Steve had been slurring his words and saying, “Tony – I mean, Iron Man, you’re my _best friend_ ,” in a fourth wall break that Peggy had written. They had to keep cutting, the crew was laughing so hard when Steve planted his hand on Tony’s shoulder and said, “Iron Stark – Tony Man – Irony Stam.”

At lunch, Bucky had told Steve, “That isn’t what you’re like when you’re drunk,” and Steve had replied, “Yeah, well, that’s too explicit to show in an 8pm timeslot.” Bucky had choked a little on his coffee.

So, things are good. They’ve had enough of these encounters that things aren’t weird after them anymore. They know they want each other, they know it’s hard, Bucky now knows not to drink with Steve anymore. They’re adults. They move past it.

Bucky lies on Steve’s sofa bed with memories swimming around his head. It’s around 2am, and he can’t stop thinking about when Steve touched his arm earlier. Ridiculous.

Then there’s a noise in the silence.

It’s quiet, and Bucky isn’t sure what it is or where it’s coming from. After a few moments he decides to let it go, but then it comes again.

So he gets up, finds his glasses and walks around the room in the darkness, when the noise comes again. Bucky figures he can handle himself against an intruder, but still, he’s a little freaked out. The last fight he had was in sixth grade against someone who made fun of his long hair (he’d won the fight, but still had his hair short ever since).

The noise comes again, definitely sounds like it’s coming from a person. He walks towards it, the noise getting louder as he gets closer. It sounds so strange, like loud breathing…

Then he realises he’s outside Steve’s door. And he realises what Steve is doing.

He takes an instinctive step backwards, because he doesn’t want to be creepy. This is Steve’s house, he can do whatever he wants, and Bucky should be sleeping anyway.

But… Steve knows Bucky has trouble sleeping. Steve knows Bucky is sleeping right outside his door.

Steve is probably thinking about him right now.

He stands, frozen, outside the door. Briefly considers going in, but of course, that’s ridiculous. They’ve made so much progress, they’re _friends_ now. Bucky knows that Steve’s favourite colour is white (no shit), his favourite food is cake, his favourite time of day is sunrise after staying up all night. His eyes crinkle up when he smiles, and when he’s confused, and when he’s sad, and sometimes just because. He’s cute in the morning, in his thick socks and boxers like a dad in a breakfast food ad. He likes cooking and drinking and running too fast and looks, to Bucky, like all the sunshine in the galaxy.

There’s a louder noise, a groan that shakes itself through Bucky’s whole body, and then he’s back in Peggy’s office hearing that noise right in his ear, feeling that breath on his skin.

As he hardens in his pants, he presses an ear to the door.

For a few seconds he hates himself, but then Steve makes that groaning noise again and Bucky melts a little against the door, leaning against it, breathing as little as possible to make out every sound he can. There’s the faint slick of skin on skin, and Steve’s laboured breathing, which hitches every few seconds. Bucky’s mind starts to wander into dangerous territory – what exactly is Steve thinking about? That night at the office where they could have been caught any second? Maybe he’s thinking about Bucky being in the next room, how he could just stand up and open the door and kiss him and make love to him like they should be doing, like they should have been able to do since the first time they met. Maybe he’s thinking about Bucky listening to him, hearing the noises through the door. It’s only 2am, after all. Bucky was up until 4 last night. If Steve were being careful, he’d wait until 5am, 6am. Maybe just do it in the shower in the morning.

Bucky becomes so wrapped up in his thoughts that he forgets to breathe. He exhales involuntarily, _loudly,_ right up against the door. He freezes, waiting for Steve to stop, open the door and discover Bucky standing there, shout at him or slam the door in his face or tell him to get out. Or, kiss him. Invite him to finish what he started. Bucky would say no. He thinks. He can’t think.

But Steve doesn’t stop. Not for a second. He keeps going, keeps making his little noises, his moans a little louder right after Bucky had made his noise. There’s no doubt that he heard Bucky, it was right outside the door. Steve had heard him, and he hadn’t stopped.

Because he hadn’t been surprised. He knows Bucky’s there.

It’s everything, _everything_ in Bucky not to start getting himself off right there outside the door. To him this is confirmation that Steve is thinking about him, not the idea of him or a fantasy but him right now, his presence in his home. Steve knew Bucky could hear him. He knows he’s outside the door, and he _likes_ it.

After a few more moments Bucky hears another noise, unlike the others because it’s not quiet, there’s no doubt Steve means for Bucky to hear this one. Bucky’s dick strains uncomfortably against his pants as Steve moans, long and low and _loud._ He’s coming. He’s coming for Bucky.

It’s the most beautiful, intimate, sad thing he’s ever heard.

Steve starts coming down, starts panting a little. Bucky waits, holding his breath, listening for any footsteps, unsure of whether Steve goes to the bathroom for clean up or just grabs some tissues. He can’t hear anything, though. There’s just breathing, and then silence.

He waits there longer than he should. It’s like he wants to be caught, wants Steve to open the door. He’s a little confused as to why he _isn’t,_ actually. Steve knows he’s there, he wants him, is always the one doing the initiating. What is he waiting for? Bucky is so painfully hard, he’d give in, wouldn’t even feel bad about it because it feels unhealthy to be as tense as he is right now, feeling like he’s about to burst at the seams from everything that’s in his body, the thoughts, the feelings, the hormones, the pounding blood in his ears.

But then it occurs to him – is Steve waiting for him to come in? It’s true that Steve’s the initiator. Bucky had kissed him in the office but that was after Steve had propositioned it. Maybe Steve’s sick of that, wants to give Bucky space but let him know he’s still thinking about him every day, every night. For Bucky, Steve is all he can think about when he thinks about sex. He wonders if it’s the same for Steve too, and whether this is his way of communicating that.

But now, he’s in his head. He’s thinking too damn much, all the time. Steve wouldn’t play that game, wouldn’t make those noises just to _entice_ Bucky. Sure, he knew he was listening, but that’s nothing. That fits within the parameters of their relationship, knowing how much they want each other but staying passive, staying away from the stuff that could get them in trouble. The subtext of this night is overwhelming, and that doesn’t break any rules. Entering Steve’s room right now and doing incredible things to him would break all of them.

So, he steps backwards. He gets into the bed. It hurts, it physically hurts to walk away, and he has to sleep on his back to keep from involuntarily humping the mattress. But he’d wait for Steve forever if it meant he didn’t have to feel this unsure, second guess and third guess and tenth guess everything about their relationship.

For all he knows, Steve could have had no idea he was there the whole time. He doesn’t know if that reassures him or makes him sad, but he’s up until 5am either way.

* * *

When he wakes up, Steve is making pancakes again. This time it just makes him sad.

He sits at the kitchen island and Steve says, “Happy Friday!” and Bucky rolls his eyes. Steve drops a pancake on his plate and hands him some coffee and grins.

“Did you get up early for this or something?” Bucky asks, because it’s only 7:45 and everything’s done.

Steve shrugs. “Maybe. But it’s our last morning as roomies. Thought I’d make it a good one. Plus, it’s our last day at work before the hiatus, so. Won’t be seeing each other everyday until like, October.”

It’s the end of August now, so that’s a daunting thing. Bucky just smiles at him and keeps drinking his coffee, feeling dirty at how normal Steve is being after the night before. Did he really not know Bucky was there? Or are they just brushing past things again?

“By the way, I know this is weird,” Steve says, and Bucky tenses, ready for the conversation, _why were you listening outside my room last night, you big perv?_ But Steve just says, “But I think it’s pretty cool that we were able to live together for three days without… you know.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows, remembering the night before last, and Steve waves his hand. “That doesn’t count. What I mean is, we haven’t broken any rules. I think that’s pretty awesome.”

Bucky nods slowly. “Yeah… I guess. Yeah.”

Steve holds up his hand for a high five, and Bucky slaps it, because they haven’t touched in so long.

“So, you sleep better last night?”

“Huh? What?”

Steve looks at him, appearing to Bucky like he’s asking a simple question. “Well, you couldn’t sleep Wednesday night.”

Bucky starts to sweat. Is he asking this question because he knows? Or because he doesn’t know? Either way, it would be dumb to lie, right? Who lies about how they slept? So he says, “No, I slept pretty badly actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve sits down opposite him and drinks his smoothie, which is green this morning.

“Yeah. I was up for a while.”

Steve hasn’t taken his eyes off him. “Oh yeah? This normal for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, is there a reason you were up or does this happen a lot?”

“Uh…” It’s impossible to read Steve’s face. Guy’s a good actor. “Both, I guess.”

“Both?” Steve sips his smoothie, and it’s a little too familiar to Bucky. Like he’s trying to be nonchalant. This whole thing is starting to feel like an investigation.

So Bucky figures, why not just tell the truth? He won’t see Steve for weeks after this, and they already know they want each other. Hell, the night before, Steve was trying to fuck him on a kitchen counter. What Bucky did isn’t any worse than that, and Steve’s ignorance is starting to make him uncomfortable.

“Yeah. There was this noise that kept me awake.”

That’s the answer Steve was fishing for. Immediately he starts turning red, starts talking but then stutters, looks like he wants to get up but knows that would be weird. Bucky just watches him, smirking a little, until Steve sighs and says, “God, I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m assuming you know what noise it was.”

Steve nods curtly, looking like he’s being yelled at by the principal or something. It’s too cute. “I’m sorry,” Steve says. “I’m sorry I woke you up, I’m sorry for even doing it.”

“Hey.” Bucky slides off his stool, leans against the counter next to Steve. “This isn’t Church, you don’t need to, like, repent your sins. And you didn’t wake me up, I was up anyway.”

“Yeah?”

Steve still looks so embarrassed. Bucky decides to go all out with the honesty thing. “Yeah. Although, I couldn’t really get to sleep afterwards.”  
  
Steve frowns. “What d’ya mean?”

Bucky takes a deep breath, smelling the pancakes and coffee and Steve, who always smells of Old Spice and apple shampoo. “I mean, I couldn’t really sleep with the thought of… with that thought in my head.”

Steve looks up at him from where he sits, his face changing, the embarrassment gone. Then he stands, moves to stand in front of Bucky. Immediately Bucky feels like Steve is pushing him against the counter he’s leaning on, even though they’re not touching.

“You were thinking about me?”

Bucky nods, his confidence out the window with Steve this close. “All night.”

“I was thinking about you too.” Steve lifts a hand and slips it between Bucky’s arm and his torso to rest on the curve of his side, glancing down at Bucky’s body every few seconds.

“Last night?”

Steve nods, both of them understanding what’s being unsaid: Steve was thinking about him at a certain point, last night. It seems that every time Bucky wonders if Steve is thinking about him, he is. But that’s not the most ridiculous notion – if they feel the same strength of emotion about each other, then Steve would be thinking about Bucky constantly, as Bucky does with Steve.

“Do you do that often?” Bucky asks, needing confirmation, as Steve slides his other hand onto Bucky’s waist. Bucky takes him by the forearms, pulls him in, and Steve takes a step forwards. Bucky’s hands slide up to his biceps, onto his shoulders.

“I mean…” Steve starts, beginning to look embarrassed again. Bucky moves one hand to the back of Steve’s neck, making it so he can’t look away. Bucky parts his lips, sucks on the bottom one for a moment, and he sees Steve’s eyes flick downwards to watch. Steve closes his eyes for a second and sighs. “All the time. Do you…?”

“Do I think about you?”

Steve nods.

“Like, every night.”

Something inside Steve reacts to that, like it does every time he realises that Bucky isn’t turning him down because he doesn’t want him, that Bucky really cares, really wants him. He moves even closer, and now he really is trapping Bucky against the counter, pushing their bodies together as much as he can while still being able to look Bucky in the eye.

And Bucky doesn’t stop him. Bucky doesn’t care about his job, or money, or binding contracts, or self control.

Bucky cares about Steve.

“Sometimes…” Steve starts to say, before he swallows. Bucky can hear how dry his mouth is. “When you’re not, you know, in the next room… sometimes…”

“What?” Bucky asks quietly, rubbing the back of Steve’s neck with one hand and pulling him closer by the small of his back with the other, so close that their foreheads touch and they both have to close their eyes.

Steve swallows again before saying, slowly and so quietly it’s almost a whisper, “Sometimes, I say your name. Pretend you’re with me.”

Bucky lets out a strangled gasp. He feels his chest heaving against Steve’s, feels that uncomfortable hardness in his pants again, feels Steve’s against him in return. “Yeah?” he manages.

“Yeah.”

“What do you call me?” he asks, before teasing, “James?”

Steve laughs under his breath. “Nah, that’s just for special occasions. Most of the time I call you Buck.”

That guy again.

Buck is in this room, just out of Bucky’s reach. Buck is standing in the corner and taunting him, telling him Bucky can never be as happy as Buck is. Buck is who Steve can have while Bucky is thinking too much, telling himself not to be happy because he has a job to do. Buck is able to admit that he is in love with Steve.

But Steve doesn’t see it that way, Bucky realises. To Steve, Buck is Bucky. Buck is standing right here, pressed up against him. Buck isn’t a fucking metaphor; Buck is just a nickname.

Bucky thinks too much. Maybe he should be more like Buck.

“You ever say my name?” Steve asks, and Bucky remembers the office night, where Bucky saying Steve’s name had driven him crazy.

“No,” Bucky says, both of them whispering now. It’s true – Bucky has a roommate, he can’t afford to be doing stuff like that, as much as he’d wanted to.

Steve makes a disapproving noise, slides his hand up to the back of Bucky’s neck, gets so close to him that their noses are side by side and Steve’s breath is on his mouth. And Steve breathes, “Not yet.”

They kiss.

Now, Bucky is still thinking up until this point. Has been wondering whether this sudden influx of emotion, the need for Steve that defies all logic, is one to be trusted. Whether if he were fired, had his reputation ruined and could never work again, he would be okay, because he would have Steve. Because that’s how it feels right now. And he realises, that’s how it feels all the time. He’s just been denying it, hasn’t let himself feel the full extent of his emotions because it’s easier. There’s something self-righteous and safe about keeping people you want at a distance, at enjoying the sweet torture. The office night was imperfect, so he freaked out. Of course he’s worried about not being able to make rent, about losing the job he’s grown to love so much. But when he really thinks about it, lips millimetres from Steve’s, he’s in love. And nothing else matters right now.

They kiss, and Bucky stops thinking.

They kiss, and Steve’s hands are pulling Bucky’s hair.

They kiss, and Steve pulls Bucky by the hips towards his bedroom, and they’re almost certainly going to be late for work.

They kiss, wet and messy on the bed while they rip each other’s shirts off, Bucky between Steve’s legs realising there is no better place in the world to be, Steve grinding against him like it’s all he needs in the world.

They kiss, and Bucky squirms on his back while Steve kisses down his body, pulls down those red pyjama pants, stares at his dick like he’s in love.

Steve starts stroking him and sucking hickeys onto his hips, Bucky gasping as Steve’s mouth gets closer and closer to his dick, and then he’s swallowing him down and Bucky lets out a moan, a real one, for the first time in years. He’s usually the quiet one, but Steve brings out something in him that’s a lot crazier than he’s used to being.

“Sorry.”

Steve looks up, slides his mouth off, says, “For what?”

“The noise.” Bucky’s voice is shaking. “Neighbours.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” He gives Bucky a slow smirk, sexy as hell. “I want you to be loud.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”  
  
Bucky nods and lets his head rest back, feeling Steve lick up his length before taking him into his mouth again. Years of getting off alone in his bedroom have made Bucky quiet, even silent, but he has Steve’s blessing, so he just lets it all rip. He gasps, he moans, he whimpers, he says “fuck” way too many times, and Steve loves it, humming his approval around Bucky’s dick which makes Bucky curse again, which makes Steve hum, and round and round and round again.

At one point Bucky hears a familiar noise, looks down to see Steve jerking himself off, and Bucky says, “Hey, don’t do that. I wanna hear that ‘Buck’ for myself. Gotta earn it.” Steve groans, which is a new sensation entirely.

When Bucky comes, faster than usual but not as fast as he’d expected, he finally allows himself to say Steve’s name. He starts whispering it a few moments before, starts saying it as warning, then he starts shouting it, loud and clear, his legs shaking, his back arched, his hands buried in Steve’s hair and his eyes squeezed shut.

“Steve.”

He’s not sure if he’s paranoid, but it sounds like a declaration of love. It’s the most vulnerable thing he’s ever heard. He’s terrified and he’s so alive.

Steve swallows him down, looking up at him the whole time, fingernails digging into Bucky’s hips. When he’s finished, he climbs up Bucky’s body.

They kiss, and Bucky says, completely out of breath, “That enough times to make us even?”

“Yeah, think so.”

“Let’s change that.” He flips them over, gets Steve on his back, and hears _Buck_ so loudly that it’s ringing in his ears for hours.

* * *

 

They get to work around 9:30. This is the first time Bucky has ever been late to work in his whole life. It’s nerve wracking, and he feels like he should be worried about it, but he doubts he’ll be worried about anything for a while. He watches Steve drive the whole way there, hypnotised by his hand on the stick shift, on the wheel, the way he turns on his indicator. It’s ridiculous. He’s awestruck.

It feels different this time. It feels real. Concrete. Because one of them hasn’t left straight after. They’re still hanging out, still in the zone, haven’t snapped out of it. Can Steve sense that Bucky is all in this time? Or has Steve been feeling like this all the time and Bucky’s just caught up?

He takes Steve’s hand for a moment when they’re in traffic, and Steve looks so surprised. It’s exhilarating and heart breaking, knowing that Steve’s been waiting for this. Steve kisses Bucky’s hand and holds it to his mouth for as long as he can.

When they get to the studio, Bucky almost leans over and gives Steve a kiss, before remembering their whole situation. The bubble threatens to pop, but endures. He just wishes he’d taken advantage of the ride to kiss him instead.

When he gets into the writers’ room, he tries to slip in unnoticed, sit next to Maria without alerting Peggy, who is facing the whiteboard and writing something about Black Widow being able to wear flats for once. When she turns back around, she spots him immediately, and throws up her hands. “James, finally! Where have you been? You’re half an hour late.”

“Sorry, Peggy, got stuck in traffic. Won’t happen again.” He’s smiling, and it makes her suspicious (Bucky is the champion of the resting bitch face), but she just sighs and says, “Alright, well. I want you to present your plan for Cap and the Soldier in a moment, so get ready.”

Bucky freezes, nods, manages to keep a calm exterior. Inside, immediately begins panicking. Hard core panicking. He had completely forgotten about coming up with something for Cap and the Soldier. His week had been so jam packed with his _own_ relationship issues, he hadn’t even _thought_ of theirs. Oh my god, he’s going to be fired. Peggy’s going to purse her lips and say, “James, that’s unacceptable,” like she always says when people do stuff wrong. He starts to sweat at the thought, fuck. He’s been so concerned about losing this job because of Steve that he might lose his job.

It seems that a moment has passed – Peggy is looking at him and just said something that he didn’t hear. “What?”

“I said, come up here and tell everyone your plan.”

Bucky swallows. “I’m not good at public speaking, can I stay here?”

Peggy frowns. “Oh. Sorry, of course.” She sits down and gestures to him.

“I just need to, uh… look at my phone. My notes are on there.” He gets out his phone, just buying time to think of something to get him out of this. He’s about to fake a text emergency (he’s thinking, “Oh no! My wife is in labour!” despite obviously not having a wife) when he unlocks his phone and his texts with Steve appear.

He sees the invite to come over, the flirting, the chats about lunch and schedules. And the text Steve has just sent him, telling Bucky he can’t stop thinking about him.

- _Fury keeps having to tell me to stop giving bedroom eyes to everything I look at. He actually shouted, ‘Rogers, stop looking like you want to bang that couch.’_

Bucky looks up, sees eight pairs of eyes on him, and smiles. He clears his throat.

“Right. So. Cap and the Soldier don’t get together in the mid season finale. It’s all very sad, Cap is really upset. The way the Soldier brushed him off, he thinks that she doesn’t care for him as much as he does for her. The first episode back, he starts to spiral a little, can’t sleep, tries to avoid the Soldier. We can make it funny, have him go to a strip club and give away all of his money on the condition that ‘ _you get all of it, okay? I just want you to have what you need._ ’ Because Cap can’t stop doing things for others, it’s ridiculous.” He’s talking too fast, but he’s on a roll.

“Okay, so he keeps having these moments with the Soldier, these little scenes where they make jokes and laugh together and go out for lunch sometimes and you can slowly start to see that the Soldier felt the same all along, she was just hiding it or afraid of it or something because she’s been alone for so long, and so much could go wrong, and she has the most to lose. And then, in the season finale, he does something simple. Like, for example, he remembers that she likes the bread with the poppy seeds, or that he brings her coffee without getting one for himself. So then Steve just kind of smiles at her like he always does, but there’s this close up on it -”

“Steve?”

Bucky blinks. “Sorry?”

“You said Steve,” Peggy tells him.

“Right. I mean Steve’s character. So Cap just looks at her with this smile, and it’s like everything comes tumbling out of her at once like the dam has collapsed, like she can’t take looking at the sun for this long without feeling the warmth she knows is there. And they kiss, and it’s magical, and she realises that the risks are always worth it when you’re in love. Which she totally is.”

Bucky runs out of breath. He looks around the room, everyone staring at him, all looking a bit stunned – besides Rumlow, who is peering at him in suspicion, but he’s always doing that.

“You didn’t even look at your phone,” Peggy says.

“Oh. Guess I had it memorised after all.”

Peggy starts smiling, stands up and wipes something off the whiteboard. “That’s perfect. I love it. All of these self-aggrandising gestures of heroics and the thing that makes her kiss him is a coffee. I love it.” She beams at him. “Well done, James.”

Bucky grins back. “Thank you, ma’am.” He texts Steve back under the table.

- _I can’t stop thinking about you either._

They spend the rest of the day hammering down the details. Bucky texts Steve the entire time, high on his decision, high on his vulnerability.

Everything could come crashing down around him very, very soon.

But for now it just makes him… happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)
> 
> Updates will be slower cos I have to write 3 essays, but I will still be updating, because I hate essays.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! sorry for the hiatus, all my deadlines for uni were within the last couple weeks but I'm on my holidays now. Hope you like the chapter :) bonus points if you can spot the civil war reference (no spoilers)

When Bucky gets back to his (now bug-free) apartment after work, Natasha is sitting on the counter looking at her phone while smoke comes out of the oven.

“Nat, are you trying to cook again?”

She looks up. “How did you know?”

Bucky just points to the oven. Natasha jumps up and yells, “FUCK!” She switches the oven off and opens it. The smoke alarm isn’t going off, which is a bit concerning, but good for right now.

“What did you try and make?”

She pouts. “Lasagna. I thought it would be nice, like a little celebration.” She pulls the burned lasagna out of the oven, and sighs. “Wanna order pizza?”

Bucky nods, smiling. He’s missed this. “So how were your three days with Sam?”

Natasha cocks an eyebrow, and Bucky screws up his face. “Okay, maybe I don’t want to know.”

“How was your time with Steve? Manage to not make out with him?”

Bucky’s mind goes back to that very morning, where he and Steve had high fived at staying away from each other. Minutes later they’d been kissing, touching… Bucky starts grinning, can’t help it. It feels like his chest is going to burst just thinking about it.

“What?” Natasha asks slowly, suspicious. “What is it?”

Bucky just keeps grinning.

“You didn’t.”

Bucky shrugs.

“You _didn’t_. Tell me everything.”

Bucky picks up the takeout menu. “I think I want pepperoni this time…”

Natasha snatches it out of his hand. “ _Bucky._ You’re killing me!” 

“Okay, okay, fine.” So Bucky tells her the tale of the morning, the reason why he was half an hour late to work, even shows her some of the texts he and Steve had exchanged throughout the day in which Steve had called him Buck about twenty times, no longer a rare currency, no longer laden with heavy meaning, but a celebration.

He feels so happy, it’s like he’s high. Bucky’s always thought too much, been one of the sad kids, always thought of the future like a nightmare where you’re falling and don’t know where you’ll land. But he’s so damn excited. He’s got, like, seventy more years to live. And if they’re all as good as his life is right now, he’s the luckiest damn guy in the world.

 “So what are you going to do about the forbidden thing?”

“What do you mean?”

Natasha brandishes the takeout menu as she talks. “Nothing’s changed, right? You could still lose your job. Are you just gonna see each other on weekends or something?”

This is something Bucky hasn’t thought about. How hasn’t he thought about this yet? “I haven’t thought about it. I guess I just assumed… I dunno, that we’d hang out after work?”

Natasha shakes her head sternly. “That’s stupid. You’re gonna get caught if you do that.”

“You know so much about forbidden relationships?”

“I know so much about _everything_. Steve’s famous, he’s gonna have the paparazzi after him sometimes, right?”

“Yeah…”

“What are you gonna do when they see you pull up to his in the evening and leave the next morning? That’s pretty suspicious.”

Bucky’s mind starts whirring. “People already know we’re friends.”

“Friends don’t sleep over that often. You’re not thirteen.”

He’s uncomfortable. His happiness starts crashing. “I don’t wanna talk about this.”

Natasha’s face grows concerned, and she puts her hand on his shoulder. “I’m not trynna bum you out. I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into. It just seems a little impulsive to me.”

Bucky wants to argue back that he’s the least impulsive person in the universe, that this decision took _four months_ to make and that he’s putting himself and his feelings first, that he knows in this moment that if everything goes wrong he’ll be okay. That’s what’s always mattered to him – that he doesn’t regret things in the moment. His only regrets are when he’s folded to pressure, done something because other people told him to do it. He doesn’t regret things he wanted to do. That just doesn’t make sense to him.

But he’s missed Nat, and he wants to have a nice evening watching TV and drinking too much, so he just says, “Thanks. But I’ll be okay.”

Nat gives his shoulder a squeeze before ordering the pizza. They spend the evening watching season one of _The Avengers,_ pointing out all the scenes Bucky could have written better and drinking every time Steve bends over.

When it’s time to go to bed, Bucky is drunk as hell and climbs under his covers fully clothed. He pulls out his phone and texts Steve.

- _Ur but looks good in that avengers ep with the aliens_

_-What?_

_-ur BUTTT  
_ _-;-)_

_-So you had a fun night with Natasha?_

_-ya_

_-I’m glad. Do you want to get coffee tomorrow?_

_-coffee? How about DINNER. ;-)_

_-Okay :)_ _I’ll pick you up at 6._

_-6 is too early GRANDPA lol_

_-Never too early to be spending time with you._

_-OK 6 is good. Night xxx_

_-Night Buck xx_

* * *

Steve arrives at 5:59pm.

- _I’m outside :)_

Bucky gets goddamn butterflies. He pulls on his jacket and heads downstairs.

Steve leans out of the car window and says, “How’s your head?”

“Haven’t had any complaints,” Bucky replies, and winks. Steve groans.

“Sorry about the drunk texts,” Bucky says as he buckles his seatbelt, looking over at Steve in the semi-darkness. Steve looks around, leans over, kisses him briefly with his hand on the back of Bucky’s neck. It takes Bucky completely by surprise. But he’d forgotten, their relationship is changed now. They’re _together_.

Right?

They haven’t actually talked about it. They’ve been flirting excessively by text, but they haven’t properly had the ‘what are we?’ conversation. It’s a difficult one, and Bucky doesn’t want to spoil the moment, but he knows that he’s not going to be able to relax all evening if they don’t clear the air.

“I liked the drunk texts,” Steve says when he pulls back.

“Good to know. I’ll get drunk more often then.”

Steve grins and starts the engine, pulling them out into the road.

“Where are we going this time?”

“There’s this nice Chinese place about a half hour away.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Half an hour? There are ten Chinese places within five blocks.”

Steve doesn’t reply.

“Are you trying to avoid being seen with me?”

Steve glances over at him, and his eyebrows are knitted together. “You know how it is.”

“Yeah, but you’re practically famous. Anywhere we go, there are gonna be people with iPhones.”

“I know. But it’s the paparazzi we have to worry about."

Bucky rolls his eyes. “It’s not like they follow you everywhere. They only photograph you if you’re walking past.”

“Still.” Steve shifts in his seat. “Don’t wanna wake up tomorrow with our faces on TMZ.”

“What the fuck is TMZ?”

“God, you’re lame.”

Bucky laughs, and relaxes enough to broach the subject. “Hey, can we talk about… us?”

“Uh, sure.”

“It’s just, we haven’t talked about where we are. Where we go from here.”

Steve looks over at him again, a little longer than is road safe. “I, uh, I don’t know how to put it into words, really. I guess I thought we were… dating in secret?”

Bucky breathes an internal sigh of relief. “That’s what I thought too. But what does that mean? Like, how much of this do we have to keep secret? Going to dinner is normal for friends, but stuff like ‘sleepovers’ isn’t, really.”

Steve snorts. “Sleepovers?”

“Natasha’s words, not mine.”

“Well, no one’s gonna be paying that much attention to us in the hiatus. And we can go to your place.”

“I like your place better. It feels safer. Plus, no roommate.”

Steve nods. “Okay. We can go to mine until the hiatus is over and then see what happens. Is there anything we haven’t covered?”

Bucky grins. “Are you my _boyfriend?”_

Now it’s Steve who’s rolling his eyes, a rare sight, maybe the first time Bucky’s seen him do it. Steve tends to take things seriously, but now he’s smiling and saying, “Shut up.”

Bucky pokes him in the ribs. “Are you my _partner?_ Huh?”

Steve tries to slap him away with one hand while trying not to laugh. “You’re ten years old, I swear.” But he pauses. “I mean, if you’re serious, yeah. I’d call you my boyfriend.”

Bucky wasn’t serious at all, but he is now. The thought of Steve being his boyfriend was a little ridiculous, seemed too simple for the situation they find themselves in. But him being Steve’s boyfriend – Steve “calling him his boyfriend” – that’s just too appealing.

“Okay.” Bucky nods. “Sounds good.”

Steve nods back. “I mean, we can’t make it _Facebook_ official, I know that’s a big step for you ten year olds –”

“I fuckin’ hate you.”

He turns on the radio in protest as Steve smiles and drives. Taylor Swift plays quietly in the background as Steve asks, “So, you told Natasha about us?”

Bucky frowns. “Well, yeah. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Have you told anyone?”

“Nah. All my friends are work friends, so that would just put them in a difficult position.”

Bucky smiles, puts his hand on Steve’s thigh. “You can tell _me._ ”

“You’re a work friend too, technically."

“Not for the next four weeks. Hiatus.”

Steve cocks an eyebrow. “Okay then. So, Bucky, I’ve started seeing this new guy. His name is James.”

Bucky’s grip tightens on Steve’s leg. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. He likes it when I call him Buck, though, I can tell.”

Is it that obvious? God, he’s so screwed with Steve. His feelings always seem to be written all over his face. “Tell me about him.”

“Well, he’s a writer, which I think is sexy as hell. Sometimes he wears glasses and it’s like a kink I never knew I had.”

“Good to know.” Bucky makes a mental note: wear glasses every day of his life, even in his sleep. Even in the shower.

“There’s this crazy connection between us. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Bucky turns off the radio. “I haven’t either.”

“Uh, Bucky, we’re talking about me and James? Don’t make it about you.”

“You’re such a shit,” Bucky says, laughing, pushing Steve’s shoulder.

“So, yeah. I’m very happy.”

Bucky smiles, pushes his hand up into Steve’s hair. “I’m sure Buck is too.” 

He keeps his hand there for the rest of the journey.

* * *

The restaurant is nice. It’s very dark, and Bucky wonders if this is on purpose. They’re directed towards a table in the corner. On their way over Bucky spots a sign: _No flash photography._

They sit down and look at their menus. Bucky scans the dishes while knowing full well he’s going to order sweet and sour pork with egg fried rice like he has every time he’s had Chinese for the last twenty years. But he still looks, because he wants Steve to think he’s spontaneous.

When he looks up from his menu, it hits him that they’re on a date. He sees Steve, in his sweater and dress shirt, scratching the back of his neck like a label is bothering him. There’s a candle on the table between them, and wine glasses, and napkins. This isn’t Steve luring Bucky into something vaguely resembling a date. This is a _date._

Bucky hasn’t been on a date in years. Freshman year of college, he tried. It was a time of new beginnings and Grindr, and he tried to get into it. But it’s never been a priority to him. He keeps few friends and can’t maintain relationships because he’s better alone, writes best in the early hours of the morning with headphones on because then he can imagine things that don’t exist instead of being reminded of what does. It’s like his whole life, he’s been writing from his imagination, his wildest dreams.

Looking at Steve now, he has to fight the urge to pull out his phone and write about him. He feels that pull of inspiration like he used to when he was sixteen and pretentious and snuck out of the house to look at the sunrise.

Steve is his sunrise. Steve is his day beginning.

Steve looks up and notices him staring, and smiles, and Bucky thinks this relationship might turn out okay.

“Hey! Captain America!”

Bucky whips his head round to see a teenage boy, around seventeen, walking over with iPhone in hand. “Man, I’m such a huge fan! Can I get a selfie?”

Bucky looks at Steve, whose eyes are wide and panicked. But as he watches, Steve swallows, and smiles. “Hey, yeah, sure.”

The kid turns the back of the phone towards them as he squats down by Steve’s chair. They smile as the flash goes off.

“No flash photography,” Bucky blurts, trying to stop the picture when it’s already been taken. He could get the kid to delete it, but there’s that iCloud bullshit to worry about, too.

The kid looks back and forth between Steve and Bucky, confused. Then his brow smooths out and he smiles. “That’s okay, I won’t do it anymore. Have a good night.” He’s smirking as he walks away.

Steve tenses up again as soon as the kid is out of sight. “Fuck. I knew this was a bad idea. We should have gone to Malibu.”

“Are you kidding? That’s an hour away!”

Steve looks like he wants to leave and they haven’t even ordered. Bucky is panicked himself, but comforts Steve instinctively. “It’s fine. I wasn’t in the picture. We’ve been to dinner before and nothing happened. It’s _fine._ ”

“Yeah, but there’s a candle on the table,” Steve says, frowning at Bucky and fiddling with his menu. “This place is so obvious – I just thought it would be nice. I’m sorry…”

“Why are you so paranoid? You’re usually, you know… _carefree_ ,” Bucky adds with a airquotes and a smirk, thinking back to the _‘Don’t you want to know how good it could be?’_

Steve stares at him for a few moments like he’s missing something obvious.

“What?” Bucky asks, self-conscious.

“I’m paranoid because of _you_.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t want you to lose your damn job, Buck. I know I can be pretty fast and loose with my own job, but I’m never gonna feel okay about risking yours.”

Bucky takes Steve’s hand under the table. “I’m okay. I’ve made my choice.”

Steve doesn’t look satisfied, keeps frowning and staring at the candle on the table. Bucky leans over and blows it out. “There. Now no-one can see us. Not even us.”

He can’t see Steve’s face in the darkness but it feels like he’s smiling as he squeezes Bucky’s hand.

* * *

They leave the restaurant at about 8, just as all the _cool_ people are arriving for dinner. Bucky raises his eyebrows at Steve, who just shakes his head and exclaims, “Youths.”

Steve drives them back to his place, looks around for paparazzi before they get out of the car. Bucky wants to tell him to chill, but honestly, it’s kind of sweet how paranoid Steve is getting. He didn’t want a hook up, and he’s glad that’s not what he’s getting. Bucky briefly wonders whether Steve has ever had that kind of situation, a friends with benefits deal. He can’t imagine kissing Steve and not immediately falling in love with him.

“Coast is clear,” Steve tells Bucky, opening his door to get out.

“Oh, thank god,” Bucky deadpans. “A moment of peace from your swarms of followers.”

“Shut up.”

They climb the stairs to Steve’s apartment and Bucky tries to hide how out of breath he gets. He thinks, _Cardio? More like cardi-no!_ and then wonders why the fuck Steve is interested in a nerd like him.

It’s strange to walk into Steve’s apartment again, with the situation so different. He’s allowed to make himself at home, now. This is his _boyfriend’s_ apartment. He’s been sleeping here for the last few nights, but on the couch. Now he’ll sleep in the bedroom, with Steve. It’s the little things like that that get him excited. He almost wants to call it a night at 8:34pm just so he can see if Steve is the big spoon or the little spoon (his money’s on big spoon).

“Want a drink?” Steve asks.

“Sure.”

Steve wanders over to the kitchen while Bucky walks around the room, poking at things, still fascinated with Steve’s stuff just because it’s Steve’s. He looks at the bookshelf, runs his fingers over the spines. Finally he picks up a photo frame and peers at it.

“Who’s this?” Bucky asks, because the kid in the photo is lying in a hospital bed, giving a thumbs up.

Steve glances up. A brief look of concern washes over his face as he recognises the picture Bucky is referring to, but then he relaxes and goes back to pouring the drinks. “That’s, uh… that’s me.”

“You’re kidding.”

Steve shakes his head. Steve, the six foot two superhuman with biceps the size of Bucky’s head. He looks back at the photo in his hand, at the skinniest kid in the world, white as a sheet, with a hundred IVs in him.

“I was a sick kid, remember?” Steve says, starting to get self-conscious, waiting at his kitchen counter with the drinks instead of walking over.

“I remember, but I didn’t know you meant _this_ sick. You said asthma and allergies.”

“Yeah, I had those. Plus… some other stuff.”

“Who’s the lady?” Bucky asks, looking at the woman standing next to Steve in the photo, holding his hand, looking at Steve like he’s the most wonderful thing in the world.

“My mom,” Steve says quietly. He walks over, looks at the picture over Bucky’s shoulder.

“She’s beautiful.”

Steve nods. “Yeah, she was.”

“Was?”

Steve clears his throat, glances at Bucky for a brief second before locking eyes with the picture. “She… she died.”

“I’m sorry.”

Steve doesn’t react. Bucky senses that he’s gone too far, senses that a subject change is needed. He smiles at the picture. “How old are you here?”

“Sixteen.”

“No you’re not. You’re tiny.”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.” He shakes his head. “You’re freakin’ cute, you know that?”

“In the picture?” Steve asks, surprise in his voice, looking at Bucky with his eyebrows raised. “Seriously?”

“Hell yeah. Look at you. Look at that _face._ Even tiny, you’re gorgeous.”

Steve gives him a small smile and looks down, like he’s blushing. Bucky thinks about how it must have been really hard, being that sick. Steve probably didn’t have anyone to tell him he was gorgeous. Not in the way that Bucky means it.

“But enough about me, and how I hit puberty at seventeen.” Steve takes the photo from Bucky’s hands and puts it back on the bookshelf, leading Bucky over to the kitchen. “Tell me about you.”

“It’s not weird that you hit puberty so late. I mean, I still haven’t gotten boobs.”

Steve snorts. “Shut up. I wanna know about, like, what you were like at school. I bet you were really popular. You look like you would have played baseball or something.”

“Close. Swim team.”

“Ah. Knew it. You’ve got that jock look about you. I think it’s the hair.”

“My hair?”

“Yeah. It’s… sporty.”

Bucky takes a sip of his drink. Whisky. What a throwback. “You play a lot of sports, Steve?”

“No, I do not.”

Bucky smiles at him. “Yeah, I was pretty popular. I used to get teased in middle school but I went to a different high school to everyone I knew, so it was okay.”

“What did they tease you about?”

Bucky shrugs. He starts thinking of things to change the subject to, before looking up to see Steve, genuine interest and concern on his face. Like he actually cares about the minutia of Bucky’s life, what made him cry a decade ago. He has to keep reminding himself that the feelings are mutual. That he cares about Steve’s old picture, so Steve cares about Bucky’s old bullies. It’s a two way street.

It’s not like Bucky’s bad at talking about his emotions. He actually thinks he’s pretty good at it, compared to other people. It’s just hard to talk about past pain. He tries to live his life with no regrets, and sometimes that means forgetting things.

But he wants to try with Steve. He feels safe here, socks on the plush carpet and Steve’s fancy sweater under his fingers.

“It’s not a big deal, but they used to tease me about my hair.”

“What about it?” Steve asks, taking Bucky’s hand from his arm and holding it, twining their fingers together.

“It was long. Like, practically shoulder length. I always thought it looked cool, but they said I looked like a girl. I, of course, asked what was wrong with looking like a girl. But they didn’t stop. And then one day I got into a fight with a kid. He came at me with scissors, tried to cut it off.”

“Are you serious?”

Bucky nods. “Yeah, I wasn’t popular so no one really cared. He got a few good slices in before I beat the shit out of him.”

“I’m sorry, Buck."

Bucky shrugs, starts to feel dumb, making a big deal about a kid cutting his hair thirteen years ago. It’s so easy sharing with Steve. He makes a mental note to try it again sometime soon. “S’alright. I’m over it.”

Steve runs a hand through Bucky’s hair, softly, stroking his forehead with his thumb. Bucky closes his eyes.

“I think you should grow it out again.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. You’ve got the bone structure for it. You could pull off a damn perm with these cheekbones.”  
  
Bucky breathes a laugh. “Thanks.”

He keeps his eyes closed, doesn’t see it coming as Steve kisses him. It’s firm, but it’s slow, closed mouthed. Maybe the first time they’ve kissed like this. Not rushed, not sloppy and desperate and a little afraid. Slow, like they’ve got all the time in the world.

Bucky presses forwards a little, feels for the kitchen counter, puts his drink down on it and then pushes Steve against it, gently, wrapping his arms around Steve’s back and slipping a leg in between Steve’s, brushing his fingers over Steve’s neck and feeling the layers in his hair, the raised freckle on his jaw. Surprisingly, another first, he doesn’t feel himself getting hard. He’s not aroused at all.

It’s weird. He can’t explain the feeling exactly. He’s making out with the most beautiful man on the planet but he doesn’t presently need to fuck him. It’s like he’s content. Like this is enough. He’s felt what it’s like to _be_ with Steve. Now he can slow down and be with him.

Then it occurs to him that this is how most relationships are started. Not with a grope on a table in the dead of night. A date, like they’d just gone on, and a kiss. Forgetting all the stuff that brought them here; from here on they can (mostly) just date. Like regular people who don’t have everything riding on this.

Bucky starts smiling. Steve pulls back. “What?” he asks.

Bucky shrugs. “Just happy.”

Steve smiles back.

They spend the rest of the night watching movies and talking, about school, college, friends, life, even food (“When I was a kid I used to always spend my train money on hot dogs and have to walk home.” “Me too!”). By eleven, Bucky’s exhausted, feels his eyelids droop as his head rests on Steve’s shoulder, Steve’s arm around him. As Bucky falls asleep, he hopes that he doesn’t have any dreams, so he can wake up faster.

* * *

When Bucky wakes, sunlight is streaming in through the blinds, there’s an impossibly soft blanket on him, and Steve is yelling at someone over the phone.

Bucky sits up, scratches his head, and yawns. He’s a classic cartoon character in the morning, rolling out of bed like a zombie moaning for coffee, made even worse this morning because he’d fallen asleep in his contacts so his head is banging. He stretches his arms above his head as he gets up. It takes him a second to realise what’s going on, because he’s never heard Steve raise his voice like this before.

“I want it down, now!” Steve is shouting from his bedroom. After a pause, he yells, “Why not?!” and then, “It’s homophobic! Did you see the headline? It’s like it’s fucking 1970 with this shit!”

Bucky stands, frozen, listening, torn between whether he’s eavesdropping or this is something he needs to know. After a few moments he settles on the former, and walks into the kitchen to make coffee. He can still hear most of what Steve is saying, but at least this way Steve won’t think he’s being nosey.

Suddenly his sleepy brain kicks into gear and he registers the word 'homophobic’. The worst case scenario immediately enters his head; they’ve been found out. It’s over. They’re both fired. The bubble is popped. The air is rushing in fast enough to wind him.

He’s about to pull out his phone to Google how much he could get from unemployment benefit when Steve stalks into the kitchen, laptop under one arm, phone held so tight that his knuckles are white. Steve walks towards the sofa, frowns for a moment upon seeing that Bucky isn’t there, and turns towards the kitchen. Bucky gives him a little wave.

“Hey,” Steve says. It’s curt, which would make Bucky laugh in any other circumstance, because of Steve’s bedhead and cute socks. But obviously, this is not the time.

“Hey.” Bucky brandishes the coffee pot, a little lost for words. “Coffee?”

Steve shakes his head. “How much of that did you hear?”

Bucky puts the pot down and leans against the counter, towards Steve. “Some. Not a lot. Not enough to know what’s going on.”

“I’m guessing you haven’t seen TMZ.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Bucky reminds him.

Steve doesn’t bother ribbing him, doesn’t look like he has the energy for it, just walks forwards and opens his laptop in front of Bucky. The screen flashes to life and Bucky blinks a couple times, settling his contacts, squinting to make out the article in front of him:

_Red, White, Blue, and Rainbow: ‘The Avengers’ star Steve Rogers caught on romantic dinner date – with a man!_

Bucky’s first instinct is to be relieved. Before he can even think, relief fills his whole body and he shrinks half an inch as he relaxes. They have their jobs. That’s alright. No welfare for Bucky and Steve.

But then he realises. Of course. Steve’s just been outed.

He scrolls down in the article, skim reads it, learns how a fan had run into the actor at a restaurant last night and seen him with a man. A picture accompanies the article - the selfie of Steve and that kid who came over to their table.

“Fuck,” Bucky says.

“Yeah.” Steve gets a text, opens it and immediately starts typing a long response while saying, “I mean, it’s not that I mind being outed so much, I was gonna do it eventually, I just don’t like the way it’s being treated like a scandal, like it goes against my character to be gay? Like it’s un-American? Like, number one, Captain America is a character and is not who I am, number two, what happened to land of the free, huh?” He looks up at Bucky suddenly, wide eyed, like he’s expecting an answer. Bucky just shrugs weakly.

“I don’t get it.” Steve pockets his phone. “It’s trending. Hashtag red, white, blue, and rainbow. Like, red and blue are _in the rainbow!”_

Bucky frowns. “So you’re not upset?”

Steve sighs, calming down for a second to pour himself some coffee after all. “I guess I’m just angry that it’s still such a big thing. Like, if there were a scandal, I thought it would be us. I didn’t think it would be that I’m _gay._ That’s so… like, who gives a shit? I guess I’m mad because people still give a shit.”

Bucky nods, rubs his hand up and down Steve’s back in between his shoulder blades. He’s still warm from sleep.

Steve sighs again and looks at Bucky. “Sorry for waking you up like that. How did you sleep?”

“Awesome. You know I love your couch.”

Steve presses his lips together into a small smile that only lasts a second. “Good.”

“Thank you for not drawing a moustache on my face,” Bucky says, nudging him, trying to lighten the mood.

“You’re welcome.” Steve peers at him as he sips his coffee. “Actually, I think you could pull off a moustache.”

“You think I could pull anything off. I can’t trust your opinion.”  
  
“That’s true.” Steve gives him a real smile, leaning back into Bucky’s hand. “Alright. Real issue time.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “There’s more?”

Steve’s smile grows concerning as Bucky catches a glimpse of sadness in his eyes. He moves out of the way as Steve reaches for the laptop and scrolls down to reveal a second picture in the article.

A blurry picture, taken from far away, of Steve sitting opposite a man with brown hair and terrible posture.

“Fuck,” Bucky says again. And then, because he’s more than a little afraid, he says, “Is that really what my hair looks like from the back?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this taking so long! I just couldn't get in the zone and I didn't wanna give you guys a half-arsed chapter. Turns out the cure for writer's block is staying up all night! Who knew.

Bucky likes to think that he knows himself pretty well. A perk of thinking too much is that the monologue in his head has quite a developed sense of voice. He can usually predict exactly how he’s going to react in any given situation because he’s thought them all through already. He’s not been blindsided yet to date.

And this is no exception. Of course, Bucky’s thought about this, a picture getting out. He’s thought it through. He would explain it away as them being friends. People at work know they’re close. They’d believe something like that.

Except, this photo is clearly romantic. Whoever this brown haired hunchback is in the photo, he’s being looked at by Steve in a way that’s non-platonic. If anyone realised it was him, he couldn’t explain it away. The only explanation is the truth.

In his head, when the photo comes out, he looks at Steve and smiles and says, “BFFs just being BFFs. Nothing to worry about.” They take care never to kiss or touch in public so the picture is explained away and Steve and Bucky get back to living their lives. 

In Steve’s kitchen, on a Sunday morning, with coffee in his hand and bleary eyes, Bucky surprises himself. He’s afraid.

Steve stares at the side of Bucky’s head, waiting for him to react past the swearing and the jokes. Waits for him to have an appropriate response to the serious situation. Bucky feels Steve’s eyes on him, can feel the tension in Steve’s body without even looking at him. Steve is probably waiting for Bucky to reassure him. Steve has spent the morning shouting at people and stressing and worrying. Steve is usually the laid back one and probably thinks that because he is freaking out, they’ve changed roles, and Bucky must be calm.

Bucky doesn’t move for a few seconds, frozen with the extent of his fear.

Steve clears his throat after the silence grows too long. He reaches over and takes the coffee mug out of Bucky’s hand, replaces it with his own hand, brushing his thumb up and down Bucky’s index finger. Bucky finally moves, looks down at it, blinks and straightens up. Smiles at Steve like everything is going to be fine. Has the instinct both to leave and to break up with Steve on the spot. Fight or flight is real.

“You okay?” Steve asks him, concern in the lines of his brow. Bucky’s ‘everything is fine’ face hasn’t worked. Steve sees right through him.

Bucky nods, the urge to leave getting stronger. He keeps nodding as he slips his hand out of Steve’s and walks away, begins gathering his things from the couch. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just gotta go. I’ve got a – a thing. 

“Okay. What kind of thing?”

“Just a thing with, uh, Natasha. A thing about the apartment. It’s boring, it’s just like, financial stuff…” He keeps rambling as he puts his shoes on and pulls on his jacket. When he’s done, he stands for a moment in the middle of the room, looking at Steve for some kind of reading, whether Steve knows he’s lying. Steve is still just frowning at him, but he doesn’t look angry, or sad. Just confused.

“Alright,” Steve says slowly. “See you later, then.”

Bucky gives him a quick smile, feeling some gratefulness slip into it at Steve’s blind eye, and leaves, feeling like he can’t get out fast enough, like even being close to Steve right now is a liability, feeling afraid about the photo and about how afraid he is. 

* * *

 

“Fuck,” says Natasha.

“That’s what I said,” says Bucky.

Natasha flips a pancake over with a spatula. (She used to try to flip them with the pan, but the batter marks on their ceiling prove that she sucks at it.) It had been her first instinct when Bucky came in, looking cold and panicked and tired, to make pancakes.

“So you just left?”

Bucky nods. “Was that bad?”

“Not great, but not the worst thing you could have done.”

“I just needed to get out of there,” Bucky says, running his hand through his hand for the tenth time. “Even being there felt like a liability.”

“Mm.” Natasha hands him a burned pancake. “Eating helps.”

“I’m actually okay –”

“Eating helps _all problems_.” She shoves the pancake towards him and he takes a bite to appease her. It’s terrible. Bucky gives a thumbs up.

“Was Steve freaking out? Apart from the phone thing,” she adds when Bucky opens his mouth. “Apart from the whole media thing. Was he freaking out about the photo?”

Bucky swallows the mouthful as he realises, “No, he actually didn’t freak out about that at all.”

“What did he do?”

“He called it a real issue. And that was about it.”

“Well, that’s kinda obvious that it’s an issue. He didn’t seem, like, upset?”

Bucky shrugs, starts to get defensive, pulls out his phone to have an excuse to look away, sliding down the counter to sit on the floor, away from her gaze. “I guess not.”

Natasha takes the phone out of his hand and squats down into his eye line. “Hey. So you overreacted. It’s okay.” She stands up before Bucky has a chance to push her over.

He sighs. “I guess.”

“Stop guessing. Tell me why you left. Tell me why you’re talking to me instead of him right now.”

Bucky can’t look away from her stare. In another life, Natasha would have made a mean interrogator. No waterboarding needed. “I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of lots of things. Losing my job. Having no money again. Etcetera.”

Natasha nods. “Okay. Why didn’t you say that to Steve?”

“I guess…”

She points her spatula at him and glares. “Don’t think. Just tell me.”

“I’m afraid for Steve.”

Natasha raises her eyebrows. “ _For_ him? Like he’s twelve? Like he’s your child you want to wrap in cotton wool?”

“No, don’t…” Bucky pushes himself to his feet, starts pacing around, because she doesn’t get it, and he can’t explain it. “Don’t say it like that. You know what I mean.”

“You’re being protective?”

“No, it’s more like…” He shakes his head. Because how is he meant to explain how he feels about Steve?

“You love him.”

He looks up, and Natasha is staring at him with her eyes big, filled with realisation and sympathy. “That’s it, right?”

Bucky nods. Because that’s it. Well, that’s the closest thing to what it is. Really, it’s how Steve will only have kale smoothies for breakfast but puts three sugars in his coffee. It’s how Steve leans against things so their eyes are level. It’s how Steve said they were friends after one conversation. It’s how Steve balls his socks together in his drawers and tucks the laces inside his shoes before he puts them away. It’s how Steve eats, how he sleeps, how he talks, how he laughs. If Steve liked a show, it would be the best show. If Steve liked a band, they would be the best band, at least to Bucky. He knows he’s biased, but to him, everything Steve does is special. He blinks, and it’s beautiful. And there’s nothing Bucky wouldn’t do to make sure he’s happy, and safe, and okay.

He’s never been in love before, but he supposes that’s what it is.

“Does he love you?”

Bucky shrugs. “We haven’t talked about it.”

“Do you think he loves you?”

“What kind of a question is that?”

Natasha frowns. “It’s not that complicated a question.”

“Yeah, it is. How am I supposed to know?” He starts pacing again. It felt very arrogant, completely unsolicited, to presume that Steve felt the same way. Maybe it was his self esteem, maybe it was his belief that Steve was a thousand leagues away from him, but it felt wrong to even think about it like that.

“You’re being weird,” Natasha says, dumping the now burned pancakes into the bin and picking up a bottle of wine instead. “Let’s get shitfaced.”

“Again?”

Natasha nods.

“Well, alright. But let’s at least wait until it’s the evening. It’s eleven a.m. for God’s sake.”

* * *

Three p.m., Bucky’s wasted, again. He feels like every time he’s sad these days, he gets drunk, and he’s been sad a lot lately. Isn’t that how people become alcoholics? He’s too drunk to think about it, but he promises himself to Google it in the morning, if only for peace of mind.

Natasha’s one of those annoying drunks who calls their boyfriend, on the phone to Sam in the corner. She sounds happy, which makes Bucky happy; she deserves it, in his opinion, after everything she’s been through.

Bucky thinks about calling _his_ boyfriend. Leaving one of those drunk texts that Steve loves so much. But that seems tacky, after everything. Leaving unexpectedly and then texting Steve, _Hey boo. What’s crackin?_

So he makes an extremely wise decision. He texts Steve, _Can u come over? Need to talk._

It’s close enough to how he usually texts that Steve doesn’t realise he’s drunk, just replies, _Sure, I’ll be there in ten. X_

Bucky almost feels bad for luring him in under false pretences, consoling himself with the fact that they _are_ going to talk. Bucky’s just going to be a little less eloquent than usual.

He tells Natasha that Steve’s coming over and she retreats into her bedroom, telling Sam over the phone that Bucky’s having “trouble in paradise” but not elaborating as he’s still Bucky and Steve’s co-worker. Bucky waits for Steve to arrive, sitting patiently on the couch, trying to come up with a speech in his head to make everything easier, trying not to imagine what Steve will have to say in return. Trying to gear himself up to be assertive, and steel himself against what Steve does to him.

He has a few bullet points in his head. No real words. No actual idea what he’s going to say. Hoping he can find it along the way.

Steve texts that he’s outside, and Bucky buzzes him up, letting him in few moments later. Steve is perfect in his white t-shirt and sweatpants, smiling nervously with his palms pressed together.

“Hey,” Steve says.

“Hey,” Bucky says back. It’s like Steve hadn’t been real. It’s like every time he went away, he was a concept, a dream, an idea of a person that he was in love with. Because he was too much good at once. He felt fictional. Too good to be true.

Bucky opened the door wider for Steve to enter. “Do you want a drink?” Bucky asked, pouring himself one.

“No, I’m good. Are you okay?” Steve asked, frowning. “Are you… have you been drinking?”

Bucky nods, drinking his wine. “Little bit.”

“Oh. I thought we could talk about things.”

“We can.” He sits down next to Steve and tries to sit up straight. “I mean. I wanna talk to you about it. I have something to say.”

Steve leans forwards, looks ready to listen. “Okay. Sure.”

Bucky consults his bullet points. Opens his mouth to start on the first one. Instead says, “So how’s your day been?”

“Uhh… it’s been okay. I mean, I saw you like, five hours ago.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Bucky, it’s like, three fifteen in the afternoon and you’re drunk. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Bucky puts down his wine. “Oh. It was Natasha’s idea.”

“That you listened to.”

Bucky shrugs, uncomfortable under Steve’s parental gaze. “Shh. That’s not what I want to talk about.”

Steve reaches out, tries to take Bucky’s hand. Bucky pulls away. That’s when Steve starts taking him seriously.

“I wanna say…”

He leans his forehead against the couch, trying to organise his thoughts. It’s hard. Everything’s a mess. He wants Steve, but he wants him to be okay. He knows what’s best for Steve but he wants him to make his own decisions. It feels incredible new but it feels like it’s been going on for months.

“I’m scared.”

Steve nods. “Me too.” He looks so soft, his eyes so gentle, handling Bucky with such care. It gives Bucky the extra push he needs to say what he says next, because Steve is more important than anything.

“I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

The look on Steve’s face almost makes Bucky cry. It’s surprise, it’s hurt, it’s confusion. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t this.

“Is this because of the photo? No one knows it’s you, we’re gonna be fine.”

Bucky shakes his head despite the fact that yes, it is the photo. Something about it struck something in Bucky; if he types some letters into Google, a picture of him and Steve on a date will appear. This whole relationship has had him high on his vulnerability, riding his high heart rate and shaking hands like a good trip. Now the wave is crashing down and Bucky doesn’t want Steve drowning in the fallout.

“I can’t do this,” Bucky admits, giving in and taking Steve’s hand because that makes everything easier. “It’s me. It’s all me. I’m letting you down. I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

“Say it,” Steve says, his voice still soft but harder than before. Pressing. Guarded. Prepared to be hurt.

“I’m afraid.” Bucky’s eyes are wide and he relays his sins like he’s in confession. “I can’t take the stress. One picture on some website and I’m freaking out, I thought I was gonna have a panic attack earlier… I don’t think I can hack this. Sneaking around. I don’t think I can do it. It’s too much for me. I love you so much and I can’t stop thinking about how you might get hurt –”

“What?”

“I know, I know that’s dumb but –”

“You love me?”

Bucky blinks slowly, frowns. “Did I not say that already?”

Steve shakes his head.

“My bad. I love you. Too much to be living like this.”

Steve looks down, looks at Bucky’s hands, presses his lips together. He breathes in, and it’s loud in Bucky’s ears, the shake, the rattle in his chest. He holds it for a lifetime and then lets it all out in one go. Bucky closes his eyes as the air hits his face.

“Okay.”

Bucky opens his eyes as he feels Steve’s hand slip away. It might be the alcohol in his blood but he swears his hands are colder than the rest of his body.

“Okay,” Steve says again. He stands up. “I guess I’ll see you in October.”

Bucky puts his head in his hands, drunk and melodramatic. “No, no, I can’t be cut off from you again. Steve. You gotta understand.”

There are fingers in his hair, pulling Bucky’s head into Steve’s stomach, holding him like he’s a crying child. “I do, Buck, I understand. You can text me whenever you want, okay? Call me, text me, drop by unannounced.”

“You’ll be at home?”

“Where else would I be?”

“I love you,” Bucky murmurs again into the white fabric.

“I love you too.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I gotta go.”

He pulls away, and Bucky knows it’s the alcohol because his face is cold now too.

“I love you,” Bucky says one more time, watching Steve open the door. Steve turns and does finger guns. Bucky never thought finger guns would make him want to cry.

He does, after Steve leaves. He indulges himself. He buries under two duvets and cries until he falls asleep. When he wakes up, his face is dry and stiff and he’s still cold.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM BACK BABY. updatin all day erry day until these losers are happy.
> 
> official writer's credit (TM) goes to ForeverShippingJohnlock for cap's booing :~)

“James. _James.”_

Maria nudges him and Bucky’s head slides off his hand. “Uh, sorry.”

Peggy frowns at him. “Are you alright, James? You’re not usually distracted.”

Bucky nods, too much, too energetic to be believable. “Yeah. Sorry. Late night. Won’t happen again.”

All his nights are late nights.

Peggy keeps frowning at him for a moment, but nods and turns back to the whiteboard. “So, now that I have your attention, I was wondering if I could have you write the first episode after the hiatus.”

It’s Friday and they’re allocating work. Unlike the actors and the crew, the writers are using the hiatus to prepare, bringing their work home with them. He doubts Steve is at home practising his Captain America face, or Fury is at home practising yelling at people. Actually, that last one is a bit more feasible.

“Why me?”

Peggy shrugs. “Someone’s got to do it.”

She tells Rumlow to write some insulting jokes for Iron Man, and then the meeting’s over. Bucky gets up, takes his phone out to check his messages – none – and Peggy says, “James, could I talk to you for a minute?”

Immediately the feeling that he’s been called to the principal’s office comes over him. He looks around him, waits until the others have left, and follows Peggy into her office.

“James, are you alright?” Peggy asks him again when they’re sitting down. “You don’t look very well.”

He’s about to ask what she means, but then he remembers that it’s pretty obvious. Since Sunday, he hasn’t had a full night’s sleep. If he thought pining for Steve before he had him was bad, it’s even worse afterwards. How Steve thought, all that time ago, that kissing Bucky would make thinking about him better… Now he knows what he’s missing. The air around him feels empty, the space in between his fingers too wide. When he thinks about Steve, he doesn’t think about _what if._ He remembers. He closes his eyes and puts himself back in the moments. Standing in Steve’s apartment. Lying in Steve’s bed. He looks down at Peggy’s desk and wishes they were talking somewhere else.

In Bucky’s opinion, it’s better to have never loved at all than loved and lost.

And it’s all tinged by the fact that it’s his fault. He ended it. He failed, he couldn’t handle it. He wasn’t mature enough, wasn’t strong enough. Lying alone in bed thinking about Steve at four a.m. feels wrong, because he knows Steve would be right next to him if only Bucky were better.

“I’m fine,” Bucky tells Peggy, smiling. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Peggy pauses for a moment, shuffles some things on her desk, and Bucky thinks she’s about to dismiss him when she says, “I lost someone I loved very much not too long ago. I know what it does to a person.”

She looks at him for so long that he has to look away.

“You’re my favourite, you know.”

“Huh?”

Peggy smiles, looking around the office like she’s breaking the rules. “You’re my favourite of the writers.”

Bucky grins. “You’re kidding.”

Peggy shakes her head. “Nope. I think you’re almost as good as me. Almost.”

“Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”

“You’re welcome, James.”

“You know… my friends call me Bucky.”

Peggy raises her eyebrows. “Why would they do that?”

“It’s a nickname. From my middle name. It’s Buchanan.”

“That’s odd.”

“I’m just saying. You can call me Bucky.”

Peggy nods, straight-faced, but her eyes are bright. “Alright. I’ll do that. You can just call me Peggy,” she adds, and he laughs. “You can go, if you want.”

“Have a good break,” he tells her as stands.

“You too, Bucky.”

* * *

 

Natasha is on the sofa eating Doritos when he gets home.

“Hey,” he says as he drops his bag by the door and kicks off his shoes. He lies next to her, feet up on the coffee table, and notices her oversized hoodie and yoga pants. Her ‘something’s wrong’ outfit.

“Hey,” she says back. Bucky looks at the TV; she’s watching _The Avengers._

“Why are you watching this crap?” Bucky says, gesturing to the scene he wrote, taking a handful of chips.

Natasha doesn’t answer, but when Sam’s face comes on the screen she throws a chip at it.

“Something happen?”

Nat puts three chips in her mouth and mumbles, “We had a fight.”

Bucky puts his arm around her and says, “It better not have been bad cos there’s no way I can beat that guy up. Maybe if you hold his arms. But that’s not giving him a fair chance.”

She sighs. “He didn’t do anything wrong. We just had a fight.”

“What was the fight about?”

Natasha zips up her hoodie to her neck and pulls the cords tight.

“Nat.”

“I have a TV in my room, you know. And a lock on my door.”

“So?”

“So unless you want me to use them, shut up and watch this trash with me.”

Bucky shoves four Doritos in his mouth. “Better?” he mumbles.

Nat manages five. She makes a noise that sounds like, “Better.”

They order pizza at seven. Nat tells him to get the biggest one they’ve got so they can have leftovers for a couple of days. They both know this is a lie.

They’re on the couch – Bucky now in his pyjamas too, some blue plaid bottoms with an old _Star Trek_ shirt from his wild youth – when Natasha brandishes a slice of pepperoni at the screen and says, “What’s gonna happen with these two?”

Bucky follows her gaze to the screen and sees Steve holding out his hand to the Soldier for a high five, immediately regretting it when he gets her metal arm. “Oh. They get together.”

“When?”

“In the finale. Don’t tell anyone.”

“Duh. How does it happen?”

“Well, she just kind of has one of those moments of realisation that all the problems don’t really matter. That she’s just in her head and that everything will be okay.”

“Huh. You write that?”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds like something you’d write.” She eats the rest of her slice before saying, “Sam asked me to move in with him.”

Bucky controls his reaction. “Uh. How do we feel about that?”

Nat shrugs. “I like living here.”

“Is that what you told him?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t take that too well.”

She shrugs again, her go-to move for appearing blasé when really she cares. “Yeah, well. That’s how it is.”

Bucky looks at her while she watches the screen, unable to stand looking at Steve’s huge, HD face when saying this. “Do you love him?”

“Of course.”

“Do you want to break up with him?”

“No.”

Bucky shrugs at her. She rolls her eyes. “Then this is something you gotta do.”

She looks at him with the look she saves for only him. The vulnerable one. “I like the way we are now. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“You gotta try, kid. It might get messed up, but it might get better. Let’s be honest, would you rather have me yell at you to hurry up in the shower or have Sam get in with you?”

Nat smiles. “You _are_ annoying.”

“I know!”

She leans her head against his shoulder. “I’d miss you.”

“I’d miss you too. But I bet not as much as you’re missing Sam right now.”

Falcon comes on the screen, and Nat doesn’t throw anything at him this time. She takes a deep breath, her ribcage pushing into Bucky’s side as she inhales. “Where would you live? You can’t afford this place on your own.”

“I’ll get a roommate. I can’t be bothered to move.”

“I can’t be bothered to move, title of your sex tape.”

“Fuck you.”

Nat slides her feet under his legs for warmth. She says, “Never call me kid again,” and they watch the latest released episode. The Soldier confess her feelings to Cap for the first time, her hands shaking. Steve looks at her like he always does. With the look Bucky knows is meant for him.

Bucky has to look away. 

* * *

 

That night, Bucky lies on his front with his head under the pillow, trying to push himself into sleep. His mind is full, blissfully distracted, thinking about Natasha and Sam. How she could get over her fear because she loves him.

At three a.m. he gives up and pulls out his laptop, opens up his work in progress for the first episode back.

_“Hey, Win.”_

_“Win?”_

_“You know, like ‘Cap’. It’s a nickname. Like, I’m not going to call you the Winter Soldier whenever I see you.”_

_“Of course not. That would be too much to ask of you. I apologise.”_

_“I’ll get over it with time.”_

_CAP looks around to check no one else is there, uncomfortable._

_“Look, I just wanted to see how you are. It’s been weird since…”_

_SOLDIER nods. She knows he’s talking about when they almost kissed; they don’t need to say it. The audience will remember!_

_“I’m good.”_

_“Good.”_

_“You?”_

_“I’m good too.”_

_“Good.”_

_CAP smiles tightly._

_“Okay, well, I’m glad you’re okay.”_

_SOLDIER smiles back and walks away._

_“That was uncomfortable to watch.”_

_“Shut up, Jarvis.”_

Now that Bucky thinks about it, Steve was right in his paranoia that Bucky writes Cap and the Soldier as Steve and Bucky. Steve is there in everything he does. Like a pool that Bucky draws from. They say writing is narcissism, that everything you write has an element of yourself in it. For Bucky, Steve is the only thing worth writing about.

He remembers Steve’s promise that Bucky can text or call him anytime. Even drop by unannounced. This last option is Bucky’s favourite, but the one he knows he can’t do. To be around Steve is to love him, and to love him right now is to hurt.

So he picks up his phone and texts him instead.

- _Hey._

He gets an instant reply, which is unusual for Steve. He normally goes to sleep around 10.

– _Hey._

_-Can’t sleep?_

_-Nah. But it’s okay, don’t have to get up tomorrow for work. You?_

_-Trying to write. Emphasis on trying._

_-Writer’s block?_

_-Something like that._

_-You’ll figure something out. You always do._

Steve’s right. Recently he keeps getting blocked and then inspired. But Steve is the one who does the inspiring. Bucky doubts he’s a good writer at all without Steve.

He feels incredibly self-pitying as he writes, _I miss you._ But he deletes it before he sends it and instead writes, _How’s TMZ?_

_-They’re fine. Made a formal apology, wrote some articles like, ’10 Hottest LGBT Celebs’ and put me at the top so I don’t make a fuss._

_-That’s unfair. Obviously Angelina Jolie should be at the top._

_-Wake up, kid, life isn’t fair._

- _You can say that again._

_-I miss you._

Bucky stares at the screen, wondering for a moment whether he accidentally sent his earlier message. But it’s from Steve. He’s brought up the subject Bucky had assumed they’d been avoiding.

_-I miss you too._

_-We should get together soon. For lunch or something._

_-That would be nice._

While the lines of communication are open, before Steve changes the subject, Bucky writes, selfishly, _Are you mad at me?_

_-For what?_

_-For not being able to handle it. For being the reason we broke up._

Bucky watches the three little dots appear and disappear, over and over again, for three minutes.

- _No, I’m not. I don’t blame you. Just wish things were different.  
__-Can I call you?_

_-Yeah._

As soon as it goes from Delivered to Seen, his phone is ringing. Bucky picks up, lies under the covers so he can pretend that Steve is in there somewhere next to him.

“Hey,” Steve says.

“Hey.”

There’s a silence.

“Sorry,” Steve says, laughing awkwardly. Bucky closes his eyes at the crackly sound of his breathing through the phone. “I don’t have anything I wanted to talk about. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“That’s okay. I wanted to hear yours too.”

There’s another pause before Steve says quietly, “I can’t sleep.”

“I know.”

“I mean, at all.”

“Me neither.”

“Would you… would you stay on the phone?”

“What do you mean?”

“Can I just… can we stay on the phone while I try and sleep?”

Bucky swallows, his mouth dry. His ears ring when Steve isn’t talking, like every moment he’s not in is silence. “Yeah. Do you think that would help?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Are you gonna keep writing?”

“Nah, I think I’ll sleep too.”

There’s the sound of rustling sheets on Steve’s end, and then nothing but quiet breathing. Steve says, “Buck?”

“Mm.”

“Do you remember what you said? When we broke up? Everything you said?”

Bucky stares at the screen. _Steve Rogers._ The picture of Steve in Bucky’s glasses. “I love you,” Bucky says.

The breathing stops.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “I’m okay. Goodnight, Buck.”

“Night, Steve.”

He listens to Steve breathing for hours, hears it steady as he falls asleep, and when he finally pushes back the covers to use the bathroom, it’s daylight. He lies on his back, staring at the ceiling, and at ten a.m., he hears a rustle as Steve wakes, a yawn, a sigh, and a pause.

“Bucky?”

Steve’s voice is soft, trying not to wake him. Bucky stares at the phone. Not wanting Steve to know he’s gone twenty-six hours without sleep. But Steve’s still holding his breath, waiting for a reply.

Bucky opens his mouth to say something when Steve hangs up. 

* * *

 

A week later, the last of Nat’s stuff is boxed up. Bucky looks around the apartment, realising that all the nice stuff was hers. He’s gonna have to buy a lot of coasters.

They pick up the last few boxes from her bedroom and look at the empty room. It’s more emotional than Bucky would thought it would be. She’s moving fifteen minutes away, but it’s still the end of an era.

“It’s the end of an era,” Nat says.

“I was thinking that. What are you doing with your bed?”

Natasha pokes it with her foot. “I don’t need it. I can leave it here, if you want. Something to make your Craigslist ad stand out. Free bed!”

“That would be great, actually. Thanks.”

“No problem. That’ll be three hundred dollars.”

They take the boxes down to Sam’s car and Nat hands Bucky her key. “Come visit anytime.”

“Okay.”  
  
“Day or night.”

“Sam, what do you think about me visiting anytime, day or night?” Bucky asks, leaning across Natasha to see Sam in the driver’s seat.

Sam glares at him. “I think it’s fine, as long as the purpose of your visit is to get your ass kicked.”

“Whaddaya know, that’s exactly what I was gonna come round for.”

“Handy. Maybe you can throw in some digs at my couch while you’re there?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Dude, I’m telling you, I have a bad back.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam mutters. “Would explain your posture.”

“What?”

“You heard me, Quasimodo.”

Nat puts a hand on both their chests. “Play nice, boys.” She leans out of the window to hug Bucky one more time. “Love you,” she says in his ear.

“You too.”

Bucky waves as they drive off. He stands on the pavement for a minute before going back inside. They paid rent last week, so he doesn’t need to look for a roommate immediately. He sits on the couch and eats Doritos and watches _The Avengers_ and misses everyone in his life.

He texts Steve, _How did you sleep?_

_-Great. Better than I have in a while._

_-Same again tonight?_

_-If it’s not too much trouble._

_-No problem. What time are you aiming for?_

_-12?_

Bucky takes a ten-hour nap. His alarm goes off at 11:50.

* * *

He drinks two cups of Natasha-less coffee – AKA, good coffee – and sits down to write at two a.m., switching his phone onto speaker and putting it on his desk next to his laptop. He cracks his knuckles, like that’ll help.

_CAP appears at the SOLDIER’s shoulder. She doesn’t notice him, keeps soldering her arm until he clears his throat. She jumps a little and turns._

_“Hey. For such a big guy you can really sneak up on someone.”_

_“I couldn’t call myself a super soldier if I couldn’t sneak up on people. I’d have to be demoted to an okay-soldier.”_

_“Can I do something for you?”_

_“I was wondering how your arm is.”_

_CAP gestures to the SOLDIER’s left arm, on the worktop. It doesn’t look in good shape after Ultron fried it in the battle._

_“It’s not going good. But at least I’m all right now.”_

_SOLDIER waves her right arm and CAP boo’s at the worst pun in the world._

_“I got this for you.”_

_CAP hands her a coffee. SOLDIER takes it and smiles._

_“Thanks, Cap.”_

_CAP puts his hands in his pockets. SOLDIER follows this with her eyes and frowns._

_“You don’t have one?”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“You didn’t get yourself a coffee?”_

_“Nah, I had some at the meeting earlier.”_

_“You went out and got this just for me?”_

_CAP shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. Because it’s not for him. This is just the kind of thing he does._

_We see the gears spinning in SOLDIER’s head. She starts smiling. Some of the tension melts out of her._

_“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”_

_SOLDIER puts down the coffee. She takes a few steps towards CAP, puts her fingertips on his chest, and kisses him. CAP’s body absorbs it, and he relaxes too, his hands coming to her face._

_“What was that for?”_

_“You know what I realised? Iron Man is a dick.”_

_“You just realised that?”_

_“I don’t wanna follow his rules.”_

_CAP squints at her, confused. But he nods._

_“Okay.”_

Bucky closes his laptop and gets into bed with Steve. He’d kind of cheated, writing the season finale when he should be writing the first episode. But now he had something to write towards.

And he’s Peggy’s favourite. So he’s sure she won’t mind.

* * *

When Steve wakes up at eight, he says, “Bucky?”

Bucky says, “Hey.”

“Hey. When did you get up?”

“Seven thirty.”

Pause. “That’s a lie.”

“No it’s not.”

“You’ve never gotten up that early in your life.”

“I do for work!”

“You’ve never gotten up that early in your life when it’s not for work.”

Bucky smiles. “That’s true. Okay, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Am I keeping you up with this? Cos we can stop if it’s keeping you up.”

“No, it’s not that. I just took a nap yesterday. A long one.”

“Well, thanks for helping me.”

“No problem.”

Bucky brings the phone with him to the bathroom as he starts to get ready for bed, his sleep schedule now effectively reversed.

Steve says, “Hey, do you wanna get that lunch we talked about? Today?”

Bucky makes eye contact with himself in the bathroom mirror. Obviously he knows this is a bad idea. Obviously he doesn’t care. “Yeah. How’s five p.m. for ya?”

“Oh, sorry. If you wanna sleep we can do it some other time.”

“No, it’s fine. I think I’ll try and take a nap in a minute.”

“Okay. So that’s a yes?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Bucky’s reflection shakes his head at him.

“Okay. See you later, then.”

“See ya.”

He waits for Steve to hang up before brushing his teeth and sleeping until 11:50.

* * *

As soon as he sees Steve, he knows this was a mistake. This is why people aren’t friends with their exes. You can’t stop being in love with someone. Ever.

Steve is outside the deli, texting, in expensive sunglasses, blue jeans and flip flops. He looks so American, Bucky isn’t surprised he got the part of Cap.

It’s not like he wasn’t attracted to Steve when they were dating. Of course he was. But there’s an extra edge when you want something you can’t have. Bucky stands on the other side of the road and watches Steve for a moment. He stares at Steve’s ankle where it pokes out from his jeans. He wonders, really wonders, how Steve’s shirt got tucked in at the back. Did he put his shirt on before his jeans? Did he scratch his ass and take the shirt with him? Is he trying to start a new trend?

He crosses the road to stop his spiralling. Steve lights up when he sees him, taking off his sunglasses and looking like he wants to go in for the hug. He stops himself.

“How you doing?” Steve asks as they wait in line.

“Good. Tired.”

“Did the nap not take?”

“No, it did. I’m just tired.”

Steve nods.

They sit outside with their sandwiches. Steve gets flatbread, grilled chicken and every vegetable they had. He also gets a doughnut. Bucky just smiles.

For a while they chat about nothing, the news – “you know, I realised yesterday that it’s not a joke, he’s actually running for president” – and the weather – “I’m gonna have to turn all my shirts into muscle shirts if it’s gonna keep being this hot” – and Nat – “the food is better, the coffee is better, I don’t get woken up by her singing _Grease Lightning._ It’s been awful.”

Steve seems like he’s okay. Well rested.

The subject of Bucky’s new roommate comes up. Bucky admits that he hasn’t looked yet.

“You have to start looking!” Steve scolds, adorably parental. “You don’t wanna get to next month and have to pay all the rent yourself.”

“I know, I know.”

“Remind me why you don’t just get your own place? You must be doing okay, now you’ve got a steady job.”

Bucky shrugs, sipping his ice coffee. “Moving is stressful.”

“You own like, three things. Granted, they’re all on your floor…”

“Shut up. I am who I am. Anyway, I don’t have anywhere to stay while I look for a place. It’s not like I can find one before the next rent is due."

“You can stay with me,” Steve says, and when Bucky looks at him, his face is the picture of innocence. He smiles under Bucky’s gaze.

“Steve.”

“What?” After a few more moments of Bucky’s stare, he laughs. “God, fine. Just an idea.” He picks at his doughnut before sliding it towards Bucky.

“You don’t want it?”

“I’m not hungry anymore.”

Bucky is reminded that Steve was not afraid. Steve was all for staying together. Steve was broken up with.

After lunch they walk towards the LA river, sitting down on the docks with their legs over the water. Bucky had suggested the walk because they wouldn’t feel the need to make conversation with something to look at. He thinks about the East River back in Brooklyn, the docks where he used to work to save up money for college. He almost mentions it to Steve, but it feels wrong.

Steve takes Bucky’s hand from his lap and holds it.

“Steve.”

“I love you too.”

Bucky’s heart pounds in his chest. “Steve.”

“I love you.”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut to stop the tears. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

“Buck, look at me.”

Bucky shakes his head. Steve presses Bucky’s hand to his mouth, and Bucky looks at him.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” Steve says. “I just want you to know.”

It’s the hardest thing Bucky has ever had to hear. He’s never wanted to quit his job more in his life.

“I don’t want to stop seeing each other,” Bucky says, watching Steve as he kisses Bucky’s hand over and over. “But I – this is too hard.”

“It’ll get easier.”  
  
Bucky nods. “Okay.” He leans his head on Steve’s shoulder. Steve puts his arm around him, mentions something about the Coney Island Creek. Bucky just listens.

They hug before they go, and make arrangements to hang out in a couple of days. They stick to lunch – dinner is too much for now.

“I love you,” Steve says again before he gets into his car.

“I know.”

Steve calls him a nerd and drives away.

Bucky falls asleep as soon as he gets home. Just past two a.m., his phone rings. Steve tells him he loves him one more time before falling asleep. Bucky watches TV with the sound off. He thinks about how he could be happy with Steve for the rest of his life. If they were together, really together, Bucky would be thinking about how soon is ‘too soon’ to move in together. To propose. To get married and buy a house and get a puppy and start growing old.

Steve wakes up at 5a.m. He whispers, “Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“You should get some sleep.”

“Shh. Go back to sleep.”

“Buck, c’mon.” Steve’s voice is thick and he’s clearly moments from sleep.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, baby.”

He doesn’t mean for it come out, but it does. Immediately he’s thrown into a memory. Their first date.

Steve falls asleep again. Bucky stares at the phone, watches the timer tick from minute to minute, from three hours to four.

Bucky doesn’t know if he’s waiting for Steve, waiting for the show to end or one of them to get another job, or just waiting for one of them to fold and quit. For now, he just waits for Steve to wake up.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry it stops being angsty soon

For the rest of the hiatus, the month of September and the first few days of August, Steve falls asleep to Bucky’s breathing and Bucky lies awake to Steve’s. For a coping mechanism, it’s a pretty decent one.

They meet up a few more times for lunch, talking about nothing, Bucky updating Steve on his writing progress and Steve telling Bucky about all the PR bullshit that comes with being a kind-of-celebrity.

It’s friendship. Sort of. Sometimes they hold hands under the table, but that doesn’t count.

Bucky’s strangely nervous for his first day back at work. He picks his outfit carefully, like he’s trying to impress the other ninth graders. (He hopes the other ninth graders like black.) Maybe he’s just excited. Maybe he’s nervous to see Steve every day and not be able to leave when it’s too much.

Peggy greets him with a warm smile and says, “Good to have you back. Bucky.” He sits down next to Maria and they smile at each other and chat for a while, and they all discuss what’s going to be filmed today. Bucky’s episode. A whole episode written by Bucky. He’s smiling for the whole meeting and half an hour afterwards.

He gives Sam an air-five across the room when he enters the set of the Avengers apartment. Steve is sitting on a couch getting his eyebrows filled in. Bucky sits in his chair and watches him for a while before looking around, smiling, glad to be back. Fury tells the cameraman to “keep both eyes open – oh, you were? Well, I wouldn’t have thought it by where you’re pointin’ that thing!”  He sees Jamie, the Winter Soldier, stealing some oranges. A crew member picks his nose. Ah, he’s home.

They start shooting a random scene, a plot point about Ultron being made by Tony when he tried to make a sex robot. Falcon makes a “computer virus” joke. He and Black Widow high five.

Steve doesn’t have a lot to say in this scene, just some lines about loving America or something, so Bucky kind of tunes out, lets his mind wander until Fury yells cut for the thousandth time and storms off to get more coffee.

Steve starts to walk towards Bucky when he gets intercepted by a woman Bucky recognises. She starts talking to Steve and Bucky places her as Sharon from HR, the woman who told him about the co-worker dating rule. He has a small desire to shoot the messenger, which he quickly stifles.

Sharon walks off, and Steve gives Bucky a puzzled look and a shrug before following her. Bucky spends the break eating tuna sandwiches and making fun of Sam’s new couch.

* * *

“So, Mr Rogers –”

“Steve.”

“Steve. I’m sorry about being so vague out there. I thought this was better kept under discretion.”

“I still don’t know what you’re referring to.” Steve rests his elbows on the uncomfortable chair in Sharon’s office. There are a lot of windows and it’s big. She must be important.

“The TMZ scandal that happened over the break.”

Steve doesn’t react. “I don’t know if that counts as a scandal.”

“No one here cares that you’re gay.” It looks like she cares a little, though, from her face. “That’s not the issue. The issue is the scandal.” She turns her computer around. “Can you tell me who this is with you?”

It’s the picture of him and Bucky at dinner.

Steve tells himself not to panic. “I’d rather not.”

“Well, every tabloid reporter in LA is gonna want to find out. We have a herd of them outside the studio, did you notice?”

“Yeah. Traffic was hell.” He bristles a little at what feels like an interrogation, an accusation. “What do you want me to do about it? Never leave my house?”

Sharon turns the computer back around and closes it. She steeples her fingers on her desk. “Of course not. But you know we don’t like scandal here. After Mr Stark’s… _colourful_ past, we need to avoid it at all costs. What I’m trying to say is, watch your back."

Steve narrows his eyes. “For who?”

“For another headline.”

Steve leaves the office feeling a little bit threatened.

* * *

“Hey,” says Bucky, mouth filled with bread. “What was that about?”

Steve sits in Sam’s chair while he’s in the bathroom. He looks uncomfortable, unsafe. “I just got a corporate slap on the wrist for the TMZ thing.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “For real?”

“Yeah. They said, ‘watch your back for another headline’. What does that even mean?”

Bucky smirks. “That Big Brother is watching you.” He makes ghost noises and waggles his fingers at Steve. Steve bats them away, but at least he’s smiling now.

It’s friendship. Sort of.

* * *

It’s later that day when Bucky is sneaking sugar packets into his pockets. Turned towards the craft table, he’s got his back to where they’re shooting. He hears Rumlow trying to give Black Widow direction – “but say that you’re angry in a _sexy_ way” – when suddenly he stops. “Hang on,” Rumlow says.

Suddenly there’s a voice from right behind him. “Huh.”

Bucky jumps and spins around. Rumlow is staring at him.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks, feeling slightly violated. “My God, you are so close to me right now.”

“I was just looking at the back of your head,” Rumlow says, smiling. The smile distorts his coldly attractive features; clearly he doesn’t do it very often. “I’ve never seen it before. It’s very nice.”

Bucky struggles to keep his face straight when he can feel the blood draining out of it. “You are such a weirdo,” Bucky says, and glares until Rumlow is gone, still smiling and shrugging innocently. Bucky sits in his chair until five p.m. when they call wrap, and waits until Rumlow has left the building before cornering Steve in the stairwell.

“Rumlow just stared a whole bunch at the back of my head,” he tells Steve, holding him by the elbow and knowing that his eyes are way too frantic. For once, he doesn’t think about how he’s alone with Steve and what that would mean if Bucky were anyone else in the world.

“Ew. That guy is so gross.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows, holding Steve’s arm too tight.

“Oh. Oh no. Do you think he really knows? Or does he just hate you?”

“Could be either. I mean, he definitely hates me, there’s no doubt about that. If he didn’t hate me, it would actually make me hate myself a little bit. He’s probably just fucking with me, but there’s no way to know without asking him.”

Steve screws his face up and lets his head drop back on the wall behind him. “Ah, god, I’m so sorry about this.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, it’s my fault. I wasn’t careful enough.”

“You drove us half an hour away and the restaurant had no flash photography. You did everything you could. I’m the one walking round here with my head on display!”

Steve opens his eyes to peer at Bucky. “What?”

“I should have worn a hat or something. I’m practically _inviting_ people to stare at the back of my head. I’m asking for it.”

Steve keeps staring at Bucky, a clear _what the fuck_ look on his face, before cracking up and shoving Bucky in the chest. Bucky’s hand falls from Steve’s arm. “You’re crazy.”

“What?” Bucky asks, trying to deadpan but a smile sneaking in. “What? I need a hat. Don’t laugh. Walking round here with my brown hair out for everyone to see. I need a hat.”

“Okay, but a baseball cap isn’t gonna be enough. You’re gonna need a full beanie to cover the back of that head.”

Bucky nods, starts to pull out his phone. “I’ll check Amazon.”

Steve pushes his phone away. “Stop it, this isn’t funny.”

Bucky leans back on the wall beside Steve, putting his phone away. After a moment, Bucky takes Steve’s hand.

“He’s just fucking with me, right?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like he’s gonna be able to prove anything.” Then Steve says, “Probably not the best idea to be holding hands at work, though.”

“Shh. We’re in the secret stairwell where no one ever goes.”

Steve smiles. He says, “I gotta go.”

“Okay.”

Steve lifts up Bucky’s hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Steve jogs down the stairs. Bucky goes back inside the building and takes the elevator because he’s a lazy piece of shit.

* * *

When he gets home, the apartment is empty and it still shocks him. He’s still not got a roommate; a few people had come round to have a look but no takers so far. He doesn’t know if it’s the apartment, the location, the price, or the fact that Bucky treats them all with mild hostility and resentment because they’re not Natasha. He’s betting it’s one of those three, though.

He gets some relatively fresh (less than a week old) leftover pizza out of the fridge, heats it up in the microwave with a napkin underneath it and a glass of water beside it (he’s an artist) and settles on the sofa to watch _Gilmore Girls._ He falls asleep, waking at 11:03 p.m. when Steve calls, and drifting off again at 3:46 a.m. Just your average evening.

The idea comes to him in a dream, which is a fact that he will never admit to anyone.

He arrives at work twenty minutes early the next day. He knows that Peggy arrives fifteen minutes early every day, so he figures he can get up to the office and get settled before she arrives. He even figures he has time to grab a coffee on his way up.

Nope. When he gets to the writers’ room, Peggy is already in her office. Bucky curses himself for forgetting that organised people don’t just do the same thing every day. He doesn’t understand their kind at all.

Standing outside the door, he takes a deep breath, making sure she can’t see him through the window, standing there breathing like an idiot. After a moment he knocks.

“Come in.”

Bucky goes in and closes the door behind him.

“Hello Bucky. You’re early.”

“You’re earlier.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I wanted to talk to you before the meeting, to just… run something by you.”

Peggy smiles, gestures for him to sit down. She sits up extra straight to show him that he has her attention. “Shoot.”

“I have an idea for the next season.”

Peggy blinks, raises her eyebrows. “Season three? God, _I_ don’t even have any ideas for the next season. We haven’t even been renewed yet.”

“You think we’re gonna be cancelled?”

Peggy gives him an uncharacteristically cocky look. It makes him like her even more. “I don’t think so, do you?”

“No, I don’t think so."

“So, tell me this idea. I’m all ears.”

Bucky is suddenly nervous. It’s the most out-there idea he’s ever come up with. He’s so nervous he’s suddenly consumed by Peggy’s words: _I’m all ears. How frightening would that be?_

He shakes his head a little to ground himself, takes another deep breath – he’s going to need an oxygen tank soon – and says, “So last night when I was as- uh, when I was alone, I was thinking about how the audience really responded to the Cap Soldier relationship. They really like it when we do stuff in between the characters, not just them hanging out and fighting villains of the week. And obviously, conflict is the thing that drives a good story, so I was thinking, what would there be in season three that causes conflict? And then I remembered we’re ending season two with Cap and the Soldier getting together. That’s _really_ gonna piss off Iron Man. Like, Iron Man wants them to all stay in check and not break any rules and stay professional and Cap thinks they should be able to do whatever the fuck they want.” He winces at his accidental swearword in the workplace environment but Peggy doesn’t seem to notice.

She says, “So what are you suggesting?”

There’s a pause, because Bucky is dramatic.

“A civil war.”

“Pardon?”

“They fight each other.”

“They fight _each other?”_

Bucky nods.

“Like, Iron Man versus Cap?”

Bucky nods again.

Peggy frowns for a long moment, just stares at Bucky’s rumpled shirt. Bucky crosses his arms over his chest to hide the mayonnaise stain.

“We could get everyone to pick a side. Love or legality. Cap or Iron Man.”

Bucky smiles. “I didn’t think about that.”

His comment is irrelevant, because when Peggy gets hold of an idea, it turns out there’s lots you didn’t think about.

“They could form teams. Team Iron Man and Team Cap. We could have an episode where they fight over custody of Spider-Man.”

“Spider-Man?”

Peggy waves her hand. “New character.”

Bucky smirks. “I thought you didn’t have any ideas for season three?”

She shrugs, the cockiness showing through again, matching Bucky’s smirk with friendship in her eyes. “I always have ideas.”

“So you like the idea?” Bucky asks, always insecure.

“Bucky.” Peggy looks at him like he’s her son and he’s graduating. “I love it. It’s so complex, we can stretch it out over the entire season. You just wrote an entire season.”

“Well, not really.”

“Not _yet_.”

“What do you mean?”

Peggy holds his gaze for a long moment before shaking her head and sighing. She looks down and says, “Dammit. I didn’t want to tell anyone for another few weeks.”

“Peggy?”

“I can’t help it. You’re my favourite. I can’t keep anything from my favourite.”

Bucky starts to grin, because happiness is seeping into Peggy’s voice. “Peggy, c’mon, you’re leavin’ me hanging.”

“You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“Of course! Tell me!”

By way of answer, Peggy opens her bottom desk drawer and pulls out a fat notebook, shoved with paper from different pads and wrapped with an elastic bag. Bucky thinks he sees a receipt sticking out the side with _Man Spider? Spider Dude?_ written on it.

“What’s this?”

“My notes.”

“Why are you showing me your notes?”

“I’m not showing you my notes, I’m _giving_ you my notes.”

Bucky purses his lips. “I am very confused.”

Peggy threads her fingers together and leans forwards in her chair. “I got a job at Stark Movies.”

Tony Stark, billionaire playboy philanthropist, had started Stark Movies shortly after the creation of Stark Studios, because “I want to see my face forty feet high and in 3D.” Of course, he stars in all movies.

Bucky is primed to explode with congratulations and well wishes when his breath catches in his throat. He looks down at the pile of notes, on the desk where he and Steve had shared their first kiss.

“You’re not…”

Peggy just beams as she watches him put it together. Eventually she gets bored of him just staring at her, and pushes the notes towards him.

“Bucky! I’m making you head writer!”

* * *

It’s like a dream. Bucky has a small out of body experience when he stares himself in the elevator on the way down to the studio. He looks at himself and sees a series of bullet points.

  * James Buchanan Barnes
  * Twenty-six
  * Five foot eleven (and a bit)
  * Employed
  * Good credit
  * Head writer of a TV show



He runs a hand through his hair and presses his forehead to the mirror for the next three floors. It’s a miracle. It’s insanity. It’s gonna blow up in his face when he crashes and burns, but it’s something to put on his resume and he’s gonna give it the hardest try he can.

He walks into the studio, all spotlights and black walls, and his eyes scan the crowds of people, looking for Steve. Bucky finds him, standing on set with a piece of blotting paper pressed to the bridge of his nose. He sees Bucky looking at him and smiles and waves with his free hand.

Bucky beckons towards himself, and Steve mutters something to one of the make up artists, hands over the paper and follows Bucky out into the secret stairwell where no one ever goes. In another time, this would be their new hook-up spot, but Bucky pushes that thought out of his head, because when Peggy said to tell no one, surely she didn’t mean _Steve._

They’re keeping enough secrets as it is, what’s one more?

Steve gets a call when they’re on their way, and waits outside the stairwell to take it quickly. Bucky sits on the top step and thinks about how Peggy’s office will be _his_ office, Peggy’s title will be _his_ title. Peggy’s right to yell at Rumlow will be _his_ right to yell at Rumlow.

The door opens and Steve says, “Okay, see you then, Sharon,” and hangs up before he enters, sitting down next to Bucky with his phone in his hand. “Hey,” he says. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry. HR giving you trouble?”

“What?”

“You said Sharon. The lady from HR who has all the rules?”

“They’re not _her_ rules.”

Bucky peers at him and Steve drops his gaze. “Why did you wanna talk to me?”

“I got some good news.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll tell you if you tell me why you’re talkin’ to Sharon.”

It’s petty, and nosy, and probably nothing, but Steve won’t look him in the eye.

“It’s nothing, Bucky.”

_Bucky._

Now something’s definitely wrong. Bucky takes a second to chastise himself for thinking things could be okay for a moment.

“Is she givin’ you trouble about the scandal thing again? Cos I’ll buy this damn beanie that’s in my Amazon cart if you want –”

“She’s actually really nice,” Steve interrupts, rubbing his palms together and tucking his feet in under him on the step. “If you talk to her about stuff that’s not work. She’s nice,” he says again.

Bucky shuffles away a bit to stare at Steve with the desired intensity. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” He’s dropping ‘g’s all over the place, confused and concerned and too tired to steel himself against whatever might be going on. Exhausted, tired of everything going wrong.

“Tell me your good news now.”

“You still haven’t told me why you were talking to her.”

“Bucky,” Steve chastises, shaking his head, and he’s got a point, because Bucky sounds like a jealous ex, but it’s not that and Steve knows it too.

Bucky puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder and Steve tenses a little.

Steve looks down at the lower levels as he says, “Okay, well, I had to go back to HR yesterday after work, that’s why I had to rush off, cos there’s this insurance they had to give me – this form that says if I’m in earshot when someone makes a gay joke, I can’t sue.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow.

“I know, it sounds fake, but apparently Stark makes a lot of eggplant jokes so I just signed to say I wouldn’t sue unless I felt actually unsafe in any way. So, I was signing this form and I said to Sharon, I don’t know if this is the right form, cos I’m not actually gay.”

Bucky almost laughs. Some memories he has would say otherwise.

“Cos I’m not. I mean, I _am,_ but it’s all a spectrum. I don’t like to label myself, cos I date women too, if I feel like it. So I mentioned this to her and she, uh.” He swallows, mouth so dry that Bucky can hear it. “She said the same form would be fine.”

“And?” Because there’s obviously an _and_. Steve’s beating around the bush so much there’d be a doughnut in the grass.

“And she asked me out.”

Again, Bucky almost laughs. The thought is laughable. It’s hilarious. It makes his stomach hurt and his head swim and he feels like he needs to scream. That’s how funny it is.

He remembers the end of the conversation he’d heard. _See you then, Sharon._

“You said yes,” Bucky says.

Steve nods. “Yeah. I did.”

Bucky doesn’t know how to react. He doesn’t know whether he has the right to react. He doesn’t know if they’re exes or they’re taking a break or they’re waiting for something. He’d just thought they loved each other and they were taking it one day at a time. Leaning on each other to get through.

"I thought we weren't allowed to date people we work with," Bucky says coolly. "People in different departments."

"So did I, but apparently people in HR don't actually work for the company. They're hired from outside corporations. So really she works for, like Stark HR instead of Stark Studios. So it's okay."

It's not okay.

He listens to Steve’s breathing beside him and thinks about how Steve can’t go to sleep without Bucky on the other side of the phone. How he told Bucky he loves him when he shouldn’t have, how he breaks character to look at Bucky, how he looks at the Soldier like he looks at Bucky.

Bucky imagines Steve looking at someone else like that.

He stands up. “I gotta go.”

Steve grabs hold of his arm, pulls himself up. “Bucky.”

_Bucky._

“I gotta go.”

“I…” Steve starts, but trails off. Bucky doesn’t blame him. He’s done nothing wrong. He doesn’t need to say sorry or defend himself.

“I know. I just gotta go.”

He pulls himself free of Steve’s grip and starts off down the stairs, knowing he’s due in the studio in about a minute and a half but running away anyway. He still doesn’t know how to react. Just keeps thinking about how he should react. A guy you’re not dating and were never really dating is going out with someone else? You can be sad, sure, but you can’t be angry. If you love someone, let them go. But Steve was never his.

Obviously Steve is following him down the stairs, much faster than Bucky can take them, even going down. He catches up and corners Bucky, broad shoulders blocking Bucky from going any further. Bucky considers turning around and going back up but that seems a little too petty.

“I can explain.” Steve’s brow furrows in determination as he stares at Bucky. Bucky waits for him to explain.

“Let me explain.”

“So explain.”

This surprises Steve. He looks like he’s just been caught in a lie. He adjusts his stance, his plainclothes costume making him almost look like normal. But the shirt he’s wearing is black.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, and immediately it feels wrong. He starts again. “I was gonna tell you.”

“You don’t gotta tell me anythin’. We’re not together. We never were. It’s not my problem.”

Steve reaches out, eyes hurt, fingers millimetres from Bucky’s neck. He can feel the tiny hairs stand on end. “Don’t say that. We were together. We were.” His gaze drops to Bucky’s mouth. His eyes make tiny movements from side to side as he watches Bucky breathe. “I love you,” he says softly.

Bucky doesn’t reply. He’s reacting, whether he’s decided it’s the right way or not, and he tries to keep the dam closed while Steve is here to save his dignity.

But he can’t.

“Fuck you.”

Steve drops his hand and steps back. “Don’t be like this.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky says again, and he sounds like a fucking child but he’s so angry, at himself and at everything and everyone, and he’s so tired, of fucking up and feeling like shit and wanting Steve every second of his life, and Steve didn’t ask his permission first, and Bucky watches Steve move away from him like he’s tugging a hole through his chest.

Steve sighs. “Buck –”

“Shut up. Fuck you. Don’t act like this is okay. This came out of _nowhere._ ”

“Was I meant to prime you or something?” Steve asks in a harsh whisper, an attempt to get Bucky to lower his volume. “Was I meant to lead you up to it? This happened yesterday, it kinda came outta nowhere for me too!”

“You were meant to tell me when you were gonna move on!” Bucky says, almost shouting, shoving Steve in the chest. Steve just takes it, backs up another step. Bucky blinks back angry wetness from his eyes. “You were meant to tell me when you could even consider the _possibility_ that there was anyone else for you! Can you fall asleep without me now? Huh?”

“Come on –”

“Can you? Have you been calling every night for weeks out of pity?”

“ _No,_ just stop it for a second –”

Bucky reaches out to shove Steve again, but Steve catches his wrists, holds them against his chest until Bucky stops fighting and just stands there, looking down at Steve’s hands and praying to God that someday Steve’s touch won’t feel as good as it does right now.

Steve lets Bucky go. “I’m sorry. I am. I handled this badly and you have every right to be mad at me. But this is killin’ me. I can’t sleep without you. I need you too much. If you can’t handle sneaking around, I can’t handle… this.” He gestures between them. “Just waiting for something to change, when it won’t. It’s not like either of us is gonna lose our job anytime soon, is it?”

Bucky’s new title says no, he’s not losing his job.

“I love you so much, but I gotta try to move on or I’m gonna go crazy.” Steve ducks down, catches Bucky’s eye, takes his hand. He says quietly, “Did you want us to wait forever?”

_Yes._

“I guess not.”

For a moment it looks like Steve is going to kiss him.

Bucky says, “I gotta go.”

He opens the door to the studio, but they’re on the ground floor now. He finds the nearest bathroom and he expects to cry as soon as he enters the stall, but nothing comes out. He just sits on top of the toilet seat and closes his eyes and rests his head on the toilet roll and prays to God that he falls asleep. 

He amends the list in his head: 

  * James Buchanan Barnes
  * Twenty-six
  * Five foot eleven (and a bit)
  * Employed
  * Good credit
  * Head writer of a TV show
  * Single
  * Very upset
  * Late for work.




	10. Chapter 10

It’s later that night and Steve is getting ready for his date.

It feels very strange, going through the motions like this. He showers, puts on cologne, tries to pick an outfit he thinks she’ll like. Sharon wears a lot of blue, if he remembers correctly, so he picks out a blue shirt and black pants. That’s what people wear on dates, right?

He hasn’t been on a date since Bucky. But that doesn’t count, right? Bucky said they were never really together. So really, Steve hasn’t been on a date in almost a year.

He picks Sharon up at seven thirty and they go to a nice Indian place she recommends. They chat about their families – turns out she’s Peggy’s cousin – and they order a bottle of wine. Steve only has a small glass, because he's driving, so Sharon takes the half filled bottle home with her.

When he drops Sharon off back at her house, she asks if he wants to come inside for some coffee. He says he’d better be heading back, as it’s getting late. She thanks him for a lovely evening and he drives away.

It’s eleven when he gets home. This is usually the point where he would call Bucky. They don’t even talk these days, no “hey how are you”s, just the sound of Bucky picking up the phone and then silence until Steve falls asleep. The first one to wake up hangs up the phone.

He thinks about their argument. He thinks about how he’d made Bucky angry, how badly he’d handled the situation. He thinks about what he always thinks about, how he loves Bucky so much more than Bucky loves him, how Bucky deserves someone who knows what he needs and anticipates his moods instead of being constantly surprised and awed by everything he does. Steve isn’t Bucky’s equal. He’s just an avid fan.

Steve considers how calling Bucky now would not count as moving on. Moving on is what he needs to do. He texts Sharon a message she can answer when she wakes up. He asks her out again. He’ll just drink more next time. That’ll make him better at dinner conversation.

He turns off his phone and doesn’t sleep at all.

* * *

Of course, Bucky thinks, it’s not really a break up.

They were never together. If they were, then they’d broken up when Bucky had called it off. By technical definition, Bucky had dumped Steve.

But that was different. That was going from ‘together’ to ‘waiting to be together’. If they were together when they were sneaking around – which Bucky doesn’t think they were – then they were still together when they were waiting. It wasn’t a real relationship, but it was a promise, and that was enough.

Now they aren’t together. Steve has dumped Bucky.

Being someone who doesn’t really date, Bucky has never been dumped before, especially when the other person has found someone else. He feels replaced. He feels cheated on, even though he doesn’t have the right. He feels angry for the first time in years and it’s not a nice feeling at all. He’s angry and he’s sad and he’s tired and these aren’t good things to feel when your new roommate is coming today.

Bucky had finally given up and posted an ad on the board in the cafeteria at Stark Studios. He’d had a few applicants, one of them Rumlow – “I just wanna watch ya sleep, Barnes” – and had settled on Maria, the nice writer who sat beside him and was in charge of the science jokes Bruce makes every episode – “man, entropy just isn’t what it used to be”. Bucky understood none of them but laughed anyway.

She brings her stuff in at around noon. Bucky eyes the single holdall and backpack. Maria dumps it on the couch and looks around the place. Some hair falls out of her usual bun and she tucks it behind her ear.

“It’s nice,” Maria says, nodding. “Yeah. Kinda empty, but we can get some plants or something. You can never have too much oxygen, am I right?”

“Is that all your stuff?” Bucky asks, gesturing to her two bags.

“Yeah.”

“All the stuff you own?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows, and Maria shrugs. “I travel light.”

“Okay then. I was gonna order pizza, do you want in?”

Maria grins, moving her stuff aside to flop down on the sofa. “Oh, hell yeah. Can we get it with pineapple? I love pineapple on pizza.”

Bucky misses Natasha.

They order a small meat feast and a small Hawaiian, and break open the bottle of wine Maria brought to celebrate moving in. Bucky asks Maria what she wants to watch, and she says she doesn’t really watch a lot of TV. Bucky tells her he just watches _Gilmore Girls_ and _The Avengers_ because he’s a narcissist who loves heart-warming mother-daughter banter. So they put on some _Avengers_ and Bucky finds it’s nice to watch with a fellow writer. They shout out bits that they’ve written and boo whenever Rumlow’s bits come up (mostly Iron Man dialogue – the only person who can capture the arrogance).

When Steve comes on the screen, Bucky’s grip on his wine glass tightens, his knuckles turning white. He takes a big sip. And then another.

He turns to see Maria staring at him.

“What?”

“Did something happen between you guys?”

Bucky’s face starts to grow hot. “Who?”

Maria sits with her hands in her lap, looking at him quietly. “You and Steve. I know you guys were like, together or something. You seem upset. Did something happen?”

After Bucky doesn’t respond, she says, “Sorry, you don’t have to tell me. Just thought you might need someone to talk to.”

“Does anyone else know?” Bucky says after a moment.

Maria shakes her head.

“How did you find out?”

Maria shrugs. “Just keep my eyes open. Also, I saw a text on your phone one time. By accident, of course.” She fills up his wine glass without him having to ask.

“You’re very observant,” he tells her.

She just shrugs again.

* * *

Bucky cannot sleep at one a.m. He cannot sleep at two a.m. or three a.m. or four a.m. or five a.m.

Steve has stopped calling.

Bucky lies on top of his covers in the aircon-less heat of a Californian October, thinking about the argument in the stairwell. He’d accused Steve of lying about needing Bucky to get to sleep. Bucky hadn’t meant for him to stop.

This must be what breaking up feels like. Bucky is glad he’s never had to feel it before.

He picks up his phone, scrolling through texts with Steve. Recently they’d just consisted of - _11PM? –OK. -12.15? –Sure._ He thinks about texting Steve, but for all he knows, Sharon could be the one to pick it up.

* * *

The next day at work, he makes towards his car for his usual loner lunchtime. He gets to the foyer before a hand shoots out and grabs him.

He’s pulled into a cupboard and is about to shout “I don’t have any money! I’m a writer!” before the light is turned on and Natasha is glaring up at him.

He stares at her for a second before saying, “Are you a serial killer? Are you trying to get me to think I’m about to be serial killed? Because it’s working!”

“What’s going on?” she asks him, narrowing her eyes, backing him up against the cupboard door.

“I don’t know! I’m in a cupboard for some reason!”

“Sam told me to meet him here. He never tells me to meet him here. He knows I think it smells weird.”

“That’s true! It’s a plumbing issue where the pipes-”

He’s cut off as Natasha jams a finger in his face. “What’s going on!”

“Why are you so suspicious? Maybe he just wants you to meet him here!”

She shakes her head and starts pacing around the small space. “No, something’s up. So it’s something he didn’t tell you about. Probably cos you can’t keep a secret, I told him that. I mean, aside from the obvious. You can’t keep a reasonable secret. You’re a gossip.”

“I am _not_ a gossip.”

Nat rolls her eyes. “You are too. Making fun of other people counts as gossiping.”

“I am coming off so badly in this conversation.”

She stops pacing, looks at him, and smiles. “You really thought you were gonna get serial killer’d in broad daylight? That’s so naïve.”

“You know so much about how to murder people?”

She just cocks an eyebrow.

They grab a coffee at the place across the street, Nat unwilling to meet Sam until she has some semblance of idea what’s in store.

“What is he planning?” Natasha wonders as she drums her fingernails on the table. They look like they could poke someone’s eye out. He wouldn’t put it past Nat to grow them for that purpose.

“Maybe he wants to give you a present?”

Nat grins. “That would be cool. But he told me to meet him in the studio, at exactly one o’clock. Kind of a weird way to give someone a present. What kind of present is time sensitive?”

“Maybe he hired some strippers to dance up on you.”

“At his workplace?”

Bucky shrugs. “Sam’s weird.”

Nat smiles fondly. “Yeah, he is.” She knocks back the rest of her coffee – it’s still too hot for Bucky to even sip – and stands. “Okay, well, I’d better leave now if I wanna get up there for one o’clock. You coming?”

“Hell yeah. I wanna see the strippers.”

When they walk into the studio, the entire cast and crew are there. There are five cameras setup, and they’re all pointing at Bucky and Nat.

“I chose the wrong day to skip a shower,” Bucky mutters to Nat, moving out of the shot. But she’s not listening. She’s just staring at Sam, who is standing in front of the crowd.

“What’s going on?” Nat asks for the fifteenth time that day.

One of the cameras moves to point at Sam.

“I’m sorry about this,” he says, gesturing to all the people and the cameras. “But honestly this is the only way I thought I’d get a straight answer out of you.”

“Straight answer to what?”

Sam gets down on one knee.

“Oh, fuck,” Nat says.

“I know we, like, _just_ moved in together. But it’s so much fun. Aren’t you just having _so_ much fun?”

Nat shrugs. “I guess. Okay, yeah, it’s been awesome.”

“Do you wanna do it for the rest of our lives?”

Nat waits for a moment. She glances at Bucky. He gives her a thumbs up and a shit-eating grin. She rolls her eyes.

“Fine.”

Applause erupts from the crowd. Bucky cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “WHOOOOOO!”

“SHE SAID YESSSSS!” Sam shouts, running around the studio, giving everyone a high five, kissing the lens of one of the cameras. “DID YOU HEAR THAT LADIES AND GENTLEMEN? I’M ENGAGED! SOMEONE GO UPSTAIRS AND TELL STARK NEWS!”

Bucky watches Sam and Nat kiss and for once, it doesn’t gross him out.

He hears Sam ask Nat, “Will you tell me your real name now?”

Nat just laughs and ruffles his hair.

* * *

After the proposal, Steve has to get back to work. As the Avengers assemble in the make up chairs to be re-powdered, Fury yells, “Alright, I know we’re all excited because Wilson’s engaged, but you better beat that happiness out of yourselves right now cos we’re gonna make some damn comedy.”

He sits next to Sam, listening to him list off dream venues and different types of cake he wants to sample. “Nat just said she wants to wear as much eyeliner as she wants,” he tells Steve. “Everything else is up to me.” He says it gleefully, like he’s been planning this for years. Steve half expects him to whip out one of those ‘wedding binders’.

They stand on their marks and Fury yells, “Action!”

Steve puts on his serious, call-to-action super-soldier face. “Okay, so, here’s the plan. Soldier, you snipe from afar. Falcon and Iron Man, air support. I’ll take point –”

“How come you always get to take point?” Tony moans. “Maybe I wanna take point.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “I mean, I _am_ an indestructible super soldier…”

“Indestructible? How are you indestructible? Can’t people just like… shoot your legs?”

“Yeah, but they never think of that for some reason.”

“I should take point. I’m _actually_ indestructible.”

“You short circuit if you go in _water_ ,” Black Widow scoffs. “Remember what happened in February?”

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THEY WERE MERMAIDS!”

“Cut!” Fury yells, and waves his finger in a circle. “Let’s do it again.”

This continues for a while until they have the shot Fury likes, and then they have a five while they set up the marks for the next scene. They’re filming the very end of the episode before they film what comes in between, a reality of acting Steve hadn’t been prepared for. How is he meant to react to something that hasn’t happened yet? Of course, none of it is really happening – but still, it feels weird.

He heads to the cafeteria with Sam and grabs some of the fancy free coffee they serve there – say what you want about Tony, but the guy’s generous. They sit at their usual table and Sam pulls out his phone, shows Steve an album full of screenshots of table settings. So there’s a binder after all.

Pretty soon it’s time to head back up, so Sam throws his coffee in the trash from ten feet away.

“Jordan!” he shouts, clapping to himself.

“What?” asks Steve.

“What?”

“What’s Jordan?”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Like… Michael Jordan? Basketball, dude.”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says, nodding in fake recognition.

Sam gestures to Steve’s own coffee. Steve, feeling peer pressured, tries to throw it in the trash. It gets three feet away before falling to the ground.

Sam stares at it. “I can’t believe it.”

“I know.”

“You look like such a jock.”

“I don’t like sports! They’re boring!”

Sam shakes his head slowly, looking like he’s just won the lottery. “I can make fun of you so much with this.”

“Steve.”

They both turn at the third voice. It’s Sharon, looking both professional and hot in her skirt suit and heels. Sam just slaps Steve on the shoulder and walks away.

Steve plasters on a smile. “Hey, Sharon. What’s up?”

“I got your message. Sorry I didn’t reply, I was asleep.”

“That’s okay. I wasn’t expecting you to reply. I mean, I was, but like, in the morning.”

She gives him a patient smile that’s meant to make him feel better. “So, when did you wanna go out?”

He’s free tonight, but two nights in a row feels like a bit much. “Tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.”

“Alright, I’ll text you. At a reasonable hour this time.”

She laughs politely and walks away.

* * *

Nat hangs around set for a while after the whole ordeal, eating chips with Bucky and watching Sam act. She keeps trying to get him to crack. Bucky wants to join in, but this would be unwise for his job and Fury’s temperament, so he just whispers suggestions to Nat, most of which are along the line of “throw your chips at him. No, throw a BAGEL!”

“I can’t picture you in a white dress,” Bucky mutters to Nat while Tony is screaming something about mermaids.

“Ugh. Me neither. Do you think it’s too emo to wear black?”

“Are you trying to join the Black Parade?”

“Point taken. What colour then?”

“I dunno. You could have one of those nudist weddings.”

“Gross. I don’t wanna see you naked.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “The _guests_ don’t have to be naked.”

“Oh.” Nat pauses. “Then maybe.”

When filming is over, Sam wanders over, still in his red and black leather outfit, goggles pushed up to his forehead. He kisses Nat briefly then turns to address Bucky. “Hey, we were gonna go for drinks to celebrate. You in?”

“Hell yeah. Never pass up an opportunity to drink.”

Nat scoffs. “Yes you do. You only drink when I make you. You always wanna order pizza and watch _The Godfather._ ”

“Why you gotta play me like this, Nat.”

“So that’s a yes?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I’m in.”

“Alright, cool. I’m gonna invite Steve, too, so I’ll be back in a sec.”

Nat shoots Bucky a look. Bucky shakes his head.

“Wait!” Nat blurts.

Sam turns around. “Yeah?”

“You can’t invite Steve.”

“Why not?”

Nat looks to Bucky. He shrugs.

“Because I don’t like him.”

“What?” Sam frowns. “Why don’t you like him?”

“He’s just, uh, really condescending. And I think he’s… homophobic.”

“He’s _gay._ ”

“Uh. I mean… _I’m_ homophobic.”

“What?” Sam looks at Bucky for help. “Can you explain this?”

Bucky cannot explain this. He feels bad about himself as a writer and creative person. “Nope. Just invite Steve.”

“Alright.” Sam gives Nat a _you’re crazy but I love you_ look – basically a huge dramatic eye roll – before wandering off to find Steve in the dressing rooms.

Nat sighs and leans back in her chair. “I tried.”

“Thanks.”

“You gonna be okay?”

“Just tell Sam I ate some bad tacos or something.”

Nat pushes his shoulder so hard he almost falls off his chair. “Bucky! You have to come! Don’t let your _feelings_ get in the way of my engagement drinking party!”

“I don’t want to hang out with Steve. I’m homophobic too.”

“Bucky!” she says again, dragging out the ‘y’ for a whole ten seconds, sounding more like a petulant child as the time passes.

Bucky, hanging off the edge of his chair, butt inches from the floor, gives in. “Alright, but I’m not paying for any drinks.”

Nat looks smug. “Looks like Sam’s buying for three, then.”

* * *

Steve stands in his bedroom, deciding, for the second night in a row, what to wear.

Why is he nervous? He shouldn’t be nervous. So he and Bucky aren’t together. They can be friends, right? He tells himself he wants to be Bucky’s friend. But he’s staring at his wardrobe thinking about what a ‘friend’ outfit looks like.

He takes out every shirt he’s ever worn during a significant moment with Bucky; the dress shirt of their first date, the sweater of their real first date, every shirt in between. He’s left with a single item, a plain black sweater. He grabs it and pairs it with some blue jeans because all-black is Bucky’s thing.

Why is everything so awkward suddenly? He’s never had to think so hard about his outfits as he has in the past few days. Is this the reality of a Bucky-free world?

He looks at himself in the bathroom mirror and tries to imagine his face the other way around, the way other people see it. He wonders whether that face looks better than the one he’s looking at. Whether the dark circles are less noticeable, the eyes less red from a night without sleep.

Why is he this messed up after one day?

He shakes his head at his reflection and tells it, “You’re a dumbass.”

* * *

Sam and Nat are already at the bar when Bucky gets there. Sam is sulking because, as Nat puts it, “We left fifteen minutes early because it’s rude to keep our guests waiting. Just them. Alone.” Bucky smiles his thanks and tells Sam to go order them a bottle of champagne.

“Has he showed you the wedding album on his phone yet?” Bucky asks Nat as he slides into his seat in the sticky bar booth.

“Of course he has. Why do you think he’s so mad? I dragged him away from ‘three different types of lace!’” she says, lapsing into an eerily accurate Sam impression at the end.

Suddenly she gets up and switches sides in the booth, sliding in next to Bucky. “What’s that for?” Bucky asks.

“He’s not gonna sit next to _me,_ ” Nat stage-whispers. “He’s gonna think I wanna sit next to Sam.”

“Good call.” Bucky hadn’t thought of that. Sitting that close to Steve isn’t good for him right now.

Steve arrives at one minute past nine. “Sorry I’m late,” he says, sliding into the booth. Their knees brush under the table. Bucky hopes Sam will be back with the drinks soon. “Congratulations,” Steve adds, smiling at Nat. “Sam’s a really great guy.”

“Yeah, I’m so lucky. I mean, last week he made me wear his new jeans to ‘stretch out the ass’. He’s a keeper.”

Sam returns with the champagne, plus eight shots, because “it’s Friday and I wanna turn the fuck up!”

Steve politely refuses his shots, saying he’s a “bit of a lightweight” and “has to drive back anyway.” While Sam is making fun of him, Bucky catches Steve’s eye. Steve is biting at his lip, palms pressed together between his thighs. He’s uncomfortable. He’s not drinking because of what happens when he drinks around Bucky.

He downs his shots and one of Steve’s, too.

* * *

“You know you’re... you’re my favourite superhero.”

Sam makes a face like that’s the best compliment he’s ever received. “Thanks, man! You’re my favourite… little writer guy.”

“Little!”

“I mean… not little…”

“I’m five eleven and a bit!”

“You’re just little, man! And that’s okay!” He clasps Bucky’s hand. “That’s _okay,_ man!”

Steve watches them from across the booth. Natasha leans over to him and says, “These are the people we have chosen to love.”

“What?” Steve smarts at the sudden honesty.

Natasha shrugs lazily and smiles. “What? I’m drunk too.” She grins and whispers, “I had extra shots when no one was looking. To keep up with these two.”

“Are you talking about me?” Sam asks, spinning around to point an accusatory finger at the two of them. “Babe. You can’t do that now. You can’t talk about me behind my back. We’re married now.”

“We’re not married _yet_.”

“We’re bonded for _life_ now. You gotta tell me all your secrets.”

“If I told you my secrets I’d have to kill you.”

Sam slumps back in his seat. “Honestly, I believe that.”

Bucky nods, wrapping his arm around Sam’s shoulders. “One time I heard her speaking Chinese. And then… when I asked her if she speaks Chinese, she said no! She’s a spy!”

“I was ordering takeout, you fucking hairball,” Natasha yells, kicking Bucky under the table.

“YOU BROKE MY LEG!” Bucky shouts, clinging to Sam in pain. “YOU BROKE IT! I’m done for! I can’t afford healthcare!”

“They’re gonna take you to jail, man,” Sam tells Bucky, concerned for his new best friend.

“What?!”

“They take you to jail if you can’t pay for healthcare, man.”

Bucky starts moaning “nooooo” while Sam rocks him back and forth and tells him it’s all going to be okay.

“You get free healthcare with your job,” Steve says. After a few moments of no one responding, and Bucky moaning he’s “too socially awkward for prison”, Steve says again, louder, “You’ve got health insurance, Bucky.”

Bucky turns to him with wide eyes. “I do?”

“Yeah, we all do at the studio.”

Sam and Natasha pour more champagne in celebration of Bucky’s saved future, and Bucky leans across the table to grab Steve’s arm and say, “You’re like my hero right now, man.”

“No problem.”

Bucky looks down at where his fingers are on Steve’s arm. He just stares at it for a long time in the darkness and loud music of the bar at peak time. Steve knows he should pull his arm back. So he does. After a few minutes.

“Sorry,” Bucky says, too softly to be heard, but Steve sees it in the shape of his lips and his shameful eyes.

It’s the first time they’ve made eye contact all night.

When Sam pukes in the bathroom at midnight, it’s time to go. Sam, Nat and Bucky order a communal Uber, but when the former two start making out in the back of it, Steve offers to give Bucky a lift, and Bucky graciously accepts.

“I love you!” Sam shouts out the window as they drive away.

“I love you too!” Bucky shouts back, waving until the car is out of sight. He turns to Steve with a grin on his face. It fades as they have to look at each other in the streetlight. “This is awkward,” Bucky slurs.

Steve nods. “C’mon. I’m parked down the street.”

He starts walking and Bucky jogs up beside him. For a moment they walk in silence, and Steve can tell that Bucky is concentrating really hard on not saying anything.

“We’re friends, right?” Bucky asks, and Steve sighs. He was really hoping Bucky would succeed.

“What?”

“Like, we’re gonna stay friends. We never talked about it.”

Steve wants to argue back, to say, _we never talked about it because you yelled at me and walked away,_ but he knows that’s unfair because Bucky is drunk and the playing field is uneven. “Yeah, we’re friends.”

“Cool.”

They reach Steve’s car and while Steve is pulling his keys out of his pocket, Bucky asks, “How did your date go?”

Steve gets in the car without answering the question. Bucky slides in the passenger seat next to him and just watches as Steve starts the engine and pulls away.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You’re drunk.”

“That didn’t seem to bother you before.”

He’s got a point there. Some of the most important moments in their relationship (or whatever you want to call it) happened when one or both of them were drunk.

“I don’t want you to not mean what you’re saying.”

“I mean it."

“I don’t want you to regret what you’re saying.”

“I won’t. I never do.”

Steve turns the radio on. Bucky turns it off.

“The date went fine.”

Bucky nods, bobbing his head up and down a little too animatedly to be considered nonchalant. “You going out again?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

Bucky keeps nodding. “That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“When do you think you guys are gonna have sex?”

Steve doesn’t answer. After a moment Bucky starts nodding again and says, “Good call. That one I regret already.”

They reach Bucky’s building and Steve pulls up outside. He puts on the handbrake and switches the engine off, because he knows Bucky will want to talk some more before he leaves.

Immediately Bucky turns to Steve and says, “I miss you already.”

“I miss you too.” The voice in Steve’s head tells him to stop because this wasn’t the deal, this is not wise or correct. He focuses on the way Bucky’s dark eyes look in the moonlight instead of saying anything else stupid.

Bucky jumps out of the car and leans in through the open window. He smiles sadly, like he’s remembering something. “I would have waited for you forever, you know.”

Steve stares at Bucky’s hands on the car door, the bumps of his knuckles and ragged edges of his bitten fingernails. “Me too, if I could have.”

He glances up at Bucky’s face and sees wetness on his cheeks. “Are you okay?” Steve asks with genuine concern.

“I’m sad,” Bucky replies simply. He pats the car door and walks off, lets himself into his building and closes the door.

Steve drives home in silence with the windows still open. He gets to his apartment and pours himself some whiskey and settles himself on the sofa with his old sketchbook and a pencil.

Flipping through the pages, he sees his most recent drawings, from months ago; Bucky, before he knew it was against the rules to love him. Even after that first, ignorant day, he was awestruck.

He finishes his drink and gets to work drawing Bucky’s eyes in the moonlight and Bucky’s hands on the car door and Bucky’s jawline in the darkness and the way Bucky’s nose twitched when he was drunk and the black collar of Bucky’s leather jacket and the sad smile that made Steve want to crush the world to make it stop.

He drinks until he falls asleep.

* * *

Bucky regrets everything.

At nine a.m. he slumps next to Sam in the studio and hands him a coffee. “Do you still love me?” he asks with a weak smile.

“No. I hate you. Don’t ever mention that again.” Sam takes the coffee without thanks. “You’re too close to me. Move your seat.”

“No.”

“Move your damn seat, Bucky.”

“No.”

He would regret talking to Steve, except he doesn’t remember any of it. From his peaceful sleep, though, he assumes it went okay.

Steve enters the studio. He slows down momentarily when he spots Sam and Bucky, but then he keeps going, walking towards, them, smiling. He sits down in his seat next to Sam.

“You have no idea how much concealer they had to put on me,” Sam tells Steve, who laughs and replies, “God bless Beauty Blenders.”

“Amen.”

Sam hops out of his chair to make a call about a photographer for an engagement photoshoot – “I think I can trick Nat into doing one if I tell her it’s for a prank I’m pulling” – and Bucky leans over his empty seat to talk to Steve.

“Are we cool?”

Steve smiles at him tightly. “Yeah.”

“It’s just, I can’t really remember what I said. I know I said _something_ to you.”

Steve smiles some more. “We’re cool.”

“Cool.”

Bucky sits back in his seat and tries not to worry too much about what he said. He tells himself he’s never drinking again, again.

* * *

Steve picks up Sharon at eight. They go to a different restaurant and have a pleasant meal. Sharon tells Steve that she owns a gun, and she says it slowly, like she’s used to it eliciting a reaction from men. Steve just nods and changes the subject.

Sharon looks lovely tonight. She really is a very beautiful woman. He wasn’t lying when he said she’s nice, because she is – very good to talk to, very charming and a little witty. If this had been a year ago, he would be telling her anecdotes to make her laugh and taking her home with him.

He has to remind himself to try to be that person. The one he was before Bucky.

At half eleven, Steve drops Sharon off at her house. He gets out of the car this time, walking her to her door. She turns and leans against the door, resting her head back against the wood and tipping her chin up. She invites him in, again. He says no, again, but thank you for a wonderful evening. He thinks he can see a bit of rejection play in her eyes.

She puts a hand on his shoulder, trails it up to his neck. Applies pressure. She’s trying to kiss him.

Steve’s mind works very fast. He tells himself he doesn’t want to do this. He tells himself that yes, he does, he’s just thinking too much. Of course he wants to do this. He’s Steve Rogers, former outcast, of course he wants all the opportunities that life throws at him. He tells himself that this is exactly what Steve Rogers would do.

He’s about to step backwards, because it’s not fair to kiss her if he’s not sure about it, when he feels the pounding of blood in his ears, feels his heart race. It feels how it’s supposed to feel. It feels like he wants this.

They kiss.

Steve thanks her for a wonderful evening and drives away.

* * *

Maria wakes up at six a.m. every morning to work out. It makes Bucky a little afraid of her. People who have self-discipline astound him.

Bucky has always been lazy. Not in a, _haha I like to wear sweats in the evenings and eat ice cream_ kind of way. In a, _I will cancel plans with my close friends because I want to stay home and do nothing_ kind of way. He never makes social plans. He doesn’t see his friends for weeks at a time. He’s told Natasha that she has to come round and see him at least once a week or their friendship will turn into sending each other memes via iMessage.

But because of this laziness, Bucky has never been addicted to anything. People are always telling him they have ‘addictive, obsessive personalities’, and Bucky can’t understand that at all. Being addicted to something means you can’t stop yourself from doing it. Bucky has been avoiding doing stuff for his whole life. He couldn’t even get himself addicted to cigarettes when he was eighteen; it would have gone so well with his all-black, writer aesthetic, but even when he smoked ten a day, he could easily go another day without any, so he gave up. Twenty-six-year-old Bucky is glad he never turned into a smoker, but also kind of thinks he could do heroin and be fine.

They’re out of coffee, so he and Maria get to work ten minutes early to get some from the cafeteria. They sit down at a table, the place mostly deserted before work. Bucky hasn’t been in here in months. It’s less intimidating when the tables aren’t filled with cliques; the writers, the actors, the crew, the corporate representatives.

Maria starts talking to him about sorting out the feng shui in their apartment, and he’s arguing with her about where to put the sofa – “don’t move it! It’s in the perfect position where I can reach the TV _and_ the fridge!” – when Steve appears in the hallway outside the cafeteria, visible through the doorframe.

“I’m not saying we move the sofa, I just wanna open some goddamn windows once in a while…”

Bucky zones out and watches Steve talk to someone outside. The person he’s talking to isn’t visible, but Bucky guesses it’s Sam, or maybe Tony, because Steve is smiling with his hands in his pockets. Body language reading: relaxed. Comfortable. Friendly.

Sharon kisses him and walks away.

“And would it kill you to get some coasters? You’ve got a nice coffee table, I don’t wanna ruin it…”

Steve stands there for a moment and smiles to himself, takes a breath, and walks into the cafeteria.

Bucky looks at him.

Steve looks at Bucky. He can’t be sure whether Bucky saw Sharon kiss him just then. From the look on Bucky’s face, he did. But what is Steve supposed to do? Apologise? They’re friends again. Sort of.

Bucky stands up. “I gotta go,” he says to Maria, but stays where he is for a few more moments, eyes locked with Steve’s. When he does leave, Steve follows him.

They walk out of the cafeteria, up the corridors to the stairwell, up a couple of floors the part of the staircase no one uses. Bucky presses himself into the corner between two walls to stop his legs from giving out.

“I didn’t think it would actually happen,” Bucky breathes.

Steve wants to touch Bucky so badly in this moment. He tells himself he can’t, he’s dating someone now, she’d be mad, that would count as cheating. For a moment it astounds him that there are yet more rules between him and the man he loves. How could he let this happen? But it’s not that complicated.

“I can’t believe it,” Bucky whispers, too quietly for Steve to hear. He shakes his head. “I can’t believe it’s over.”

Steve is just watching him. Bucky isn’t sure why he’s here.

Steve isn’t sure why he’s here.

“Have you two…?”

Steve shakes his head.

“Would you? I mean… will you?”

Steve shrugs. “I guess. I don’t know.”

Bucky lets out a long breath. It swells up at the end, like he’s about to cry. Steve reaches out, almost touches Bucky’s hand, lets his own hand hover an inch away before letting it drop.

Bucky has never known addiction like this. Loving Steve is not an active thing. It’s not something he can cancel, lay on the couch and avoid. The hard thing, the thing that takes effort, is thinking about anything else.

Steve reminds himself that he was better off before he ever met Bucky.

They kiss.

Steve steps backwards, covers his mouth with two fingers. “Whoa. What are you doing? We’re at work. That’s… don’t do that.”

Bucky swallows, thick, the sound of it filling his head. “I can’t do this.”

“What can’t you do?”

_I can’t sneak around. You can’t wait for me._

“I can’t not be with you.”

He feels light headed.

“Bucky –”

“Don’t. Don’t call me that. I love you, I’m in love with you, I want to be with you and I want to… to be with you, forever.”

“Buck.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I don’t want to see you with anyone else. I don’t.” His voice is even and calm. “I just don’t. I don’t want that. I don’t." 

“That doesn’t mean we can just… kiss like that at work.”

“Yes it does.”

“What?” Steve asks, before the thought occurs to him and his face smooths out all in one go. “Buck.”

“Nothing works. Not being friends, not sneaking around, not being broken up. Do you still want this?”

Steve wants to do the right thing. But he doesn’t know what that is.

“Steve, do you want this?”

The right thing, to Sharon, would be to be with her. Go from ‘dating’ to ‘in a relationship’. The right thing, to Bucky, would be to hold his hand and walk into the ocean.

It’s fifty fifty.

_Do you want this?_

“Yeah. I still want you. Of course I do. But I don’t understand what’s changed.”

Bucky has no logic, no plan to tell Steve. He’s just… tired of stopping himself. “Peggy made me the head writer. That’s what I was gonna tell you before. She made me the head writer, and we’re the highest grossing show of all the shows at Stark Studios. That must count for _something._ That must mean _something._ If it doesn’t… I’ll take the fall. We can blame it all on me and I’ll go be a fucking waiter or something. I don’t care.”

He tugs on the bottom of Steve’s white t-shirt. “We have to try.”

Steve reminds himself that Bucky is the love of his life. He smells the whiskey on his own breath from trying to sleep without him.

“Okay.” Steve nods, starts to smile, starts to grin. Bucky laughs, and Steve does too. “Alright. Okay. Fuck, let’s do this.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

They kiss, and Bucky presses Steve up against the wall to stop him leaving, and Steve lets him.

Maybe Bucky wouldn’t be so good at heroin after all.

* * *

_Listen up, mother fuckers, we don’t play by your rules. You wanna fire us? Say goodbye to your ratings!_

Is what he wants to say. But standing outside Peggy’s office, Bucky feels less ‘rage against the machine’ and more fucking terrified.

Steve takes his hand. Bucky knocks on the door.

“Bucky! And Steve. And you’re holding hands. Oh, boys, did you work it out?”

Bucky throws up his free hand. “How does everyone in this place know?!”

“Writers are meant to be observant, as a general rule.”

“I don’t play by the rules.”

“No, you don’t.” She looks between the two of them. “So, you want me to talk to Stark about this?”

Bucky looks at Steve, realising he’s unfamiliar with the procedure. Steve shrugs and says, “Yeah, I guess,” so Bucky nods.

Peggy nods back. “Right. I’ll go see him now then.”

“Could you… hold on a second? Like, an hour?” Steve asks, giving Peggy a sheepish smile. “There’s someone I have to talk to first.”

“Of course. I’ll go at eleven, does that give you enough time?”

“More than enough. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Peggy sits back down at her desk and Bucky takes this as a signal to leave. Before he closes the door, Peggy adds, “James? My being observant covers all sorts of things, you know. I hope you will make better use of this desk when it belongs to you.”

Bucky’s entire face lights on fire. “Uh.”

“You can go.”

He shuts the door behind him and looks at Steve. “She knows we banged on her desk.”

“My god, she _is_ observant." 

Steve kisses Bucky, right in the middle of the writers’ room, which is a surreal feeling but one that he could definitely get used to, before heading off to find Sharon.

Bucky stands aimlessly in front of the large desk with ten or so chairs where they do their writers meetings. His laptop is still there in front of his usual seat. For lack of anything better to do, he sits down and opens the season finale he’d been working on. He’d shown the scene to Peggy, and she’d liked it, but thought it needed something extra. She didn’t understand why this was happening suddenly after so long of trying to fight it.

Suddenly the thought occurs to him that if this all goes to shit, this could be the last episode of _The Avengers_ he ever writes.

Bucky stares at the flashing cursor and decides to write about Steve, after all.

_SOLDIER puts down the coffee. She takes a few steps towards CAP, puts her fingertips on his chest, and kisses him. CAP’s body absorbs it, and he relaxes too, his hands coming to her face._

_“What was that for?”_

_“You know what I realised? Iron Man is a dick.”_

_“You just realised that?”_

_“I don’t wanna follow his rules.”_

_CAP squints at her, confused. But he nods._

_“Okay. I mean… has something changed?”_

_“No. Yes. I’m just… tired of not being happy. I think I wanna be with you. And that should be enough.”_

_“That’s more than enough.”_

_They kiss, and the camera pans out to show BLACK WIDOW and HAWKEYE, watching through sniper rifle scopes and eating popcorn on a rooftop across the city._

_HAWKEYE hands BLACK WIDOW fifty bucks._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the final chapter before the epilogue. I am very sad about it but I am repressing my feelings as usual. I would like to thank God, Kanye West, my wonderful beta and best friend ForeverShippingJohnlock, and the Spotify 'romance' playlist.

Steve finds Sharon in her office, which isn’t surprising, seeing as that’s where she works.

He knocks on the door softly, poking his head through, and she smiles and waves him in, putting down her pen.

“Hey! This is a nice surprise.”

Steve sits down before she can try to kiss him.

“Hey Sharon, how are you doing?”

“I’m good. Just filling out some paperwork. What’s up?”

Steve presses his lips together, and Sharon’s smile falters a bit.

He explains the situation as carefully as he can, trying his hardest not to offend. He knows that what he’s doing is kind of a dick move, but he’s trying. He’s always trying and somehow people still get hurt. He’d tried to move on from Bucky, tried not to treat Sharon like a ‘rebound’ or use her in someway, and he tells her this, that he really does like her but this is something he has to do. He tells her she deserves someone more present than him, who can appreciate how amazing she is without anything holding them back.

Sharon keeps a straight face. When he finishes, she nods, and gives him another smile. “Well, that was unexpected,” she says, and laughs, trying to play it off. Steve immediately feels guilty.

“I really am sorry.”

“Don’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong. We only went on two dates, Steve, it’s not like I’m in love with you.”

He shrugs. “Still.”

Sharon leans on her desk. It’s not as nice as Peggy’s, but it’s still pretty nice. “It’s fine. I hope everything works out for you guys.” She smiles again. “Honestly, I do.”

“Thank you.”

He gets up to leave, and feels like he should touch her in some way. But he can’t think of anything except for patting her on the head, so he just leaves.

* * *

Bucky is strangely calm.

That same feeling is back. The high. He’s more vulnerable than ever. It’s like he’s sitting in the courtroom while the jury’s out. He’s broken down at the top of the rollercoaster. There’s nothing he can do about it. He’s life is going to end or begin. He’s going to be crushed or elated. There’s nothing he can do about it, so he just waits.

Steve squeezes his hand under the writers’ table. “You alright?” he asks, glancing down to where Bucky’s leg jiggles under the table.

Bucky nods, presses Steve’s hand to his mouth and leaves it there. He’s safe in the knowledge that whatever Stark and his board decide, he’s not really going to be crushed. His life isn’t really going to end. Because he’s got Steve. For real this time. Forever.

It’s eleven a.m. and Peggy has gone to talk to Stark. As the CEO of the company, he’s important in the decision on whether or not Steve and Bucky should be fired. But, as Peggy had told them, surprisingly, he’s not the only one in play. There’s his team of lawyers who advise him on which decision would be best for the company – whether they think Bucky or Steve would win if they decided to sue. There’s his PR people who will likely tell Stark not to fire them because that would make for a terrible headline.

And those are just the people behind Stark’s vote.

The board is made up of six members. Tony is the CEO of all of his spin-off companies, of course; Stark Studios, Stark Movies, Stark News, Stark Sports, Stark Music, and the infamous Stark After Dark. But the board consists of investors and shareholders, the people who run the big corporation behind it all: Stark Industries. That one, Tony does not control. Not after he’d married a few years back and seceded it all.

“Who gets the swing vote if there’s a tie?” Steve had asked.

“The CEO of Stark Industries,” Peggy had told them, “a lady called Pepper Potts.”

“Isn’t that Stark’s wife?”

“Sure is. Stark needed someone he trusted to take over the family business. So he could grace us with his presence here at Stark Studios.”

“Lucky us,” Bucky had said.

Peggy had said she would text with news as it comes in. Bucky and Steve sit at the writers’ table with both their phones on the table in front of them and hold hands and wait for it all to happen.

Bucky feels positively serene.

“I’m freaking out,” Steve blurts after two minutes of silence. “Why hasn’t she texted? Something’s wrong.”

“What could be wrong that would make her not text? Do you think she’s been kidnapped? They’re just talking, Steve. Our situation takes a lot of explaining.”

Steve’s eyebrows contract as he accepts this. He rubs his hand up and down Bucky’s arm. “This is crazy.”

Bucky laughs. “I know.”

“Like, this is _crazy._ ”

“I know.”

Finally, Steve smiles. “I love you.”

“I know.”

“ _Bucky._ ”

“I love you too, god.”

* * *

Tony Stark frowns at the attractive woman in the red suit before him. He feels like her name is in his head somewhere. But it would be rude to ask, because she’s looking at him like they’re meant to know each other.

“Mr Stark? Did you hear what I said?”

“Yep.” He puts his feet up on his desk. Her name definitely begins with a ‘M’. _Molly? Maggie? Myrtle?_ “Two of my employees are doin’ it. Anyone I’d know?”

“Well, there’s James Barnes, one of the writers from _The Avengers –”_

“Is that the…” He snaps his fingers in recollection. “The emo guy who’s always sitting on set? The one with twenty different dark coloured hoodies?”

“Yes, that’s him. And there’s Steve Rogers, also from _The Avengers_ –”

“Steve?!” Tony cries, sitting bolt up right in shock. “I thought that gay stuff was just a rumour! Wow, you think you know a guy.”

The woman smiles at him patiently. “Yes, well. They’ve broken the rule, and they’ve been breaking it for some time, so they’d like to know what this means for their futures here.”

“I don’t have to fire them, do I?” Tony asks, pouting slightly, but not so much that it counts as pouting. He’s practised this expression in the mirror; he looks sad, but cute, but not so cute that it looks like he’s trying.

The woman frowns. “I don’t know, sir. That’s up to the board.”

“Oh! Right. I get a vote.” He nods, and picks his phone up off the desk. “Alright. I’ll arrange something.” He creates a group chat with him and the other five board members, titles it ‘BOYBAND #354’, and sends, _What’s up, long time, no boarding. We’ve got a situation over here at Stark Studios so I’ma need all y’all to meet me in the board room at Studio 5 at 1PM. Snacks will be provided. BYOB_

Pepper immediately sends back, _You left the stove on._

“Crap,” Tony mutters.

“What is it?” the woman asks, concerned.

“I left the stove on.”

Her concern turns very quickly into annoyance, which she very quickly covers. What a professional. “Would you mind me asking which way you think the vote is going to go?”

Tony tosses his phone down on the desk and steeples his fingers in a Stark Power Pose. “Well, I’m voting to keep ‘em. Rogers is great, the perfect blonde specimen to play the Cap role, and the writing’s been off the chain since that little emo kid joined. Isn’t he the kid who’s taking over from Peggy as head writer next year?”

The woman smiles. “Yes. I think he is taking over from Peggy.”

“Combine that with the show’s hit ratings and the fact that Rogers is basically the star of the thing, besides me of course, and I think they’d have a hard time finding a reason to fire ‘em.”

“But they broke the rule. Surely that counts for something.”

“Oh, it does. It definitely does.” He scratches his head behind his ear and sniffs. “I’m just telling you how I’m voting. I can’t vouch for anyone else.”

“Even your wife?”

“She’s unpredictable. That’s why I married her.”

* * *

- _Stark is assembling the board. He says he’s going to vote to keep you on. I won’t hear anything official until the board is done, but Stark says he’ll text me updates, so I’ll send those on to you as I get them._

Bucky smiles to keep from bursting into tears. The whole ‘serene’ thing never lasts long.

“Wow,” Steve says, leaning back in his chair, the picture of relief. “I wouldn’t have thought Tony would vote that way. I figure he’d wanna cover his ass.”

“Maybe he’s not such a bad guy.”

Steve nods slowly, thoughtfully. “Yeah.”

* * *

Tony walks into the boardroom in his purple suit and orange sunglasses and is surprised to see that the big chair is taken.

Pepper turns around in the seat like a Bond villain. “Tony. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I think you got the line wrong there. Also, you’re in my seat.”

“Last time you bothered to show up to one of these, you were running things. This is my chair now.”

Tony shivers. “Ooh. You just turned me on a little bit.”

He sits down on one of the regular sized chairs and texts the woman – Peggy. It had embarrassingly turned out that that was Peggy. – _I’m sitting down now._

_-You don’t need to update me on everything. Just the important stuff._

_-Okay. But I think me sitting down is pretty important._

“Why are we here, Tony?” one of the other board members asks him. He’s an old guy. Tony has never seen him before in his life.

“We’re here, grandpa, because two of our employees are… how do I put this in a way that’s appropriate for a work environment.” He makes an O with one hand and puts his finger in it.

“Tony.”

“They’re employees of Stark Studios,” Tony continues, not giving Pepper a chance to chastise him fully, “which means they’re breaking that rule we have.”

“The rule that means you can’t hook up with interns?”

“No, the rule that prevents law suits. The rule that means I can’t hook up with interns is called _marriage,_ honey.”

Pepper rolls her eyes.

“Here’s the sitch. _The Avengers_ is the highest grossing show we have. It’s made more in the last year than any show we have, or any movie, news outlet, sport channel, music video, or tastefully naked movie. One of the guys in the relationship is the star of that show, the other one is the head writer. If we fire them, we lose millions upon millions of dollars.”

Everyone in the room frowns. They love their millions upon millions of dollars.

“I thought that English woman was the head writer?” Pepper leans over to ask Tony quietly.

“Nope, she’s been promoted. Little emo kid is taking over. I mean – Mr Barnes. Is taking over.”

“This is quite the situation,” says a second board member, another old man. “Has this rule ever been enforced before?”

“Not that I know of,” Tony answers.

“So there’s no precedent?”

“Nope.”

“I vote we set one, then. Let them complete filming of this season, and then fire them both and cancel the show. Show them we mean business. Rules aren’t made to be broken.”

“Hang on,” says a third board member, old _woman_ this time. What diversity. “What kind of image does that send out about our company? Firing two people because they want to be together. We’ll be ripped apart by the press.”

“I think it’s worse to send the message that we’ll roll over. That our rules aren’t rules, just guidelines people can adhere to if they feel like it,” the second board member replies.

A heated debate breaks out between the four old people. Tony feels like he’s on _Golden Girls._ He texts Peggy again. – _Old people (or ‘board members’ as they like to be called) are fighting. Two for, two against. Pepper seemingly undecided._

- _Thanks for the update._

_-Also, I am still sitting down._

Peggy doesn’t reply.

* * *

_-Board members are fighting. Two vs two. Pepper undecided._

_-Thanks Peggy. Can you remind them that after you hired me the ratings had a twenty percent bump?_

_-Fine, but don’t think you’re not coming off as arrogant right now, Barnes._

_-:D_

Steve and Bucky grab a coffee, because Steve is too freaked out to stay sitting down. Bucky finds it kind of cute how antsy he is. It’s not often he sees Steve so worried. The self-indulgent voice in the back of his mind whispers, _He’s so worried because he doesn’t want to lose you._ Bucky half-heartedly tells it to shut up, and when it does, he tells it to keep going.

Instinctively, Bucky doesn’t look at Steve too much, keeps a foot of distance between them in the line. When Steve reaches to wrap his arm around Bucky’s waist, Bucky flinches away. He looks at Steve like he’s crazy. Steve just smiles at him.

Bucky slowly smiles back, and kisses him. There are at least thirty people in the room, and they’re not in the pitch black, or all the way in Malibu. They’re a couple. In public. Getting coffee.

Bucky isn’t at the top of the rollercoaster anymore. He’s not even hurtling down it. He’s sitting on a bench in the theme park afterwards, eating an ice cream cone one-handed so he can hold Steve’s hand. They’re talking about where they’re going to go for lunch. Steve is telling him the Coney Island Cyclone story again. The feeling Bucky would get when he tips his head back laughing – that’s how he feels now. That’s how he thinks he’ll feel for the rest of his life.

Of course, now there are new things to worry about. Whether Steve wants to be with Bucky forever too. Whether Steve forgets to buy the bread or has slept with more people than Bucky. Whether they get bored of watching Netflix and having sex. Whether Steve drinks skim milk which, after all, is just water that’s lying about being milk.

But Bucky’s kind of looking forwards to these problems. Because they’re normal, and they’re fixable, and they’re theirs.

* * *

- _It’s been ten minutes. Update?_

- _Still yelling. Think Old Person 2 will throw Old Person 4 out of window._

_-What???_

“You think that the future of the company is less important than money?!”

“The future of the company _is_ money! We can’t be sentimental here!”

“We have enough money as it is! This is a billion-dollar company! You can’t _buy_ a good reputation!”

“You certainly can! You can spin anything if you have enough money!”

“That’s not true! News outlets have integrity!”

“Not in this day and age!”

“Gentlemen,” Pepper interrupts, and the men immediately stop shouting at each other despite her quiet tone. “You’ve devolved into an argument about the integrity of the media. Can we get back on target? Simon,” Pepper says, referring to Old Person 4. “Will Stark Studios survive without the income from _The Avengers_?”

“It’ll survive, but profit margins will take a hit,” Old Person 4 replies, his face slowly turning back to a normal colour. “We’d have to up the price of ad revenue if we want to avoid that.”

“No, we can’t do that.” Tony shakes his head. “It’s in the contracts we signed. Fixed price.”

“Then we tear up those contracts and find people who _are_ willing to pay more.”

“No-one’ll go for it,” Tony tells him, taking off his sunglasses to stare into the man’s soul. “You wanna _up_ the price of ad revenue at a company that’s just taken a major PR hit? That’s when stock prices go _down._ ”

“So you want to keep them on?” Pepper asks him.

“Yeah. Of course. It makes sense. We keep them on, get all the positive PR, we disband the anti-dating rule because I’m a taken man now, and we jack up the ad prices after our stocks go up. Ratings for the show go through the roof cos everyone wants to see the guy who slept with his boss.” Tony shrugs like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “It makes sense.”

“Why do you really want to keep them on?”

“I like Rogers. He’s so fun to play with. You tell him you hate freedom and he foams at the mouth. And I like the show. And if we put Nick Fury out of a job I’m a hundred percent sure he’d kill and eat every one of us.”

“Eat?”

Tony shrugs. “He looks like one of those people. He’s got dedication in his eyes.”

“He’s got a point about the stock prices,” Old Person 3 chimes in. “Good and bad press have direct correlations to the value of stock, especially in media outlets like us.”

“Speak for yourself,” mutters Old Person 1. “I work in the weapons department.”

* * *

- _Tony says he’s made his case and they’re considering it. He also says to tell Steve he thinks political correctness is a waste of time. I’m not sure why._

Bucky refrains from relaying this last part to Steve. They’re back in the studio now; the work day does not end because Peggy is gone.

He watches Steve act with Jamie. Cap and the Soldier are being awkward around each other because they’d decided to just be friends. Bucky smiles, because that’ll never be him again.

His chest twinges as the Soldier walks away and Cap looks at her with longing. That’ll never be Steve again either.

“Cut!” Fury yells, and shakes his head. “Rogers, come on!”

“What is it?” Steve asks, walking back to his first mark.

“You’re not believable! You don’t look sad!”

“I don’t?”

“No! You don’t! You look like the happiest sad guy I’ve ever seen in my damn life!”

Steve looks at Jamie. She shrugs. “He’s got a point.”

“You couldn’t even see my face!”

“He’s still got a point.”

“Sorry. I’ll try harder.”

Jamie moves back to her mark and they try it again. Bucky thinks Steve looks perfectly sad, but he agrees that there’s something missing, and isn’t surprised when Fury yells, “Cut!” again.

Steve groans. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!”

“You’re distracted! This is why I tell you guys, if you’re happy, stop it! There’s no place for happiness in comedy, how many times?”

Steve opens his mouth to say something when his gaze cuts across the studio and he locks eyes with Bucky. He smiles. “Can I just have a second to stop being happy?” he asks Fury.

“Fine. But be quick. This isn’t a five. You’ve got a two.”

Steve leaves the studio. Bucky waits a few moments before following him. Steve’s not in the corridor when he gets out, but he knows where he is.

In the stairwell, Steve says, “You gotta go.”

“What?”

“I’m too happy.”

Bucky grins. “That’s adorable.”

“I’m serious. Whenever I have to be sad or angsty or whatever, I think about you. Now, I gotta think about something else, but it’s hard when you’re right there. I can’t think about anything else when you’re close.”

Bucky keeps grinning, feeling incredibly cocky.

“Don’t get cocky, kid,” Steve says.

“Now who’s the nerd?” Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s waist and pulls them together. “Fine. I’ll go wait in the writers’ room. I’ll forward all texts from Peggy. Happy?”

“Very,” Steve whispers, nudging his nose up against Bucky’s before kissing him. It’s light, supposed to be a domestic kiss before his ‘two’ is up, but Bucky’s not gonna see him for hours, and a domestic kiss isn’t enough.

He pushes Steve back against the wall and presses their bodies flush together, sliding his tongue into Steve’s mouth. Steve groans, a noise that’s halfway between telling Bucky to stop and telling him to keep going. Bucky kisses down Steve’s neck to allow him to protest properly.

“My time’s up,” Steve says, voice thick.

“So go.”

“You’re a horrible, terrible person.”

“Mm.” Bucky kisses Steve’s mouth again, firm and slow, before stepping back and letting him go.

Steve winces. “Ow.”

“Ow?”

“It’s hard. To not…” He hitches his pants up. “Be hard.”

Bucky laughs. “I don’t think they can show that on an 8pm timeslot.”

Steve gets his domestic kiss before he slips out. Bucky checks his phone for updates before heading towards the elevator.

As soon as he’s out the door, he’s annoyed.

“Hey there, _Bucky_ ,” Rumlow says, smiling around his gum, hands in his pockets.

Bucky scowls at Rumlow using his nickname. He must have overheard it on set. Rumlow’s good at shitty stuff like that.

“What do you want, Brock?”

“I just thought we could have a little chat.”

“Okay?”

Rumlow looks around pointedly, melodramatically, before leaning close to Bucky and stage-whispering, “I know your secret.”

“My secret?”

“Yep. You and the blonde one. You’re doin’ it. Right?”

Bucky stares at him. “What are you on about?”

“You and Steve. You’re in a secret romance. Star crossed lovers.”

“Where did you get that from?”

Rumlow points to his ear. “Ears everywhere."

Bucky stifles a laugh. This is the perfect day. “This isn’t funny. You can’t tell anyone about this,” he says in his most serious voice.

“Sure. For a price.”

Bucky closes his eyes and shakes his head. “What do you want?”

Rumlow taps his chin and rocks back and forth on his heels. “Hm. I hadn’t thought about it. Now that I think about it, it’d be most fun to get you fired. So I guess I don’t want anything from you."

Bucky balls his fists by his sides. “Don’t do this.”

“Sorry, man. Who knows? Maybe they’ll promote me after this.” He wiggles his eyebrows and walks away. 

Bucky waits until he’s round the corner to start his hysterical laughing. Life could not be better right now.

* * *

 - _Apparently Brock Rumlow just stormed into the board room and told them about your relationship. Tony said, and he’s quoting, “Please tell me this guy doesn’t work for Stark News.”_

_-Thank you so much for this information._

* * *

“Alright, now that’s done with,” Tony says, watching the door close behind the crazy guy and the two security guards, “I believe number three was about to punch number two?”

“Excuse me?” says Old Person 3.

“Continue your argument.” Tony flaps his hand at them. “C’mon. You were saying about legal ramifications?”

“Yes, well, they can’t sue us for wrongful termination, because it was made clear to them from day one that this rule would result in being let go. But there could be some trouble if they decide to go for higher severance pay, not to mention slander.”

“Slander?”

“It’s possible to sue someone for slander for being fired, because it makes you look bad and goes on your resume.”

“That’s dumb.”

Old Person 3 purses her lips.

“Enough of this,” says Pepper. “I think we should vote.”

“Miss Potts, you haven’t told us what you think,” says Old Person 1.

Tony looks at Pepper. She leans her elbows on the glass table top. “Tell me,” she says, “why are they coming forwards now?”

Tony shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t know they were together until…” He checks his watch. “Two hours and five minutes and thirty… seven seconds ago.”

“Bring them in.”

“Say what?”

“I have the swing vote. I think it’s pretty clear you’re going to vote to keep them on, Simon and Anthea are voting that way too, and Rajesh and Michael are voting to terminate them. So either way I vote, it’s the deciding one. And I want to meet these young men before I decide their futures.” She raises her eyebrows at Tony. “That okay, honey?”

Tony just blows her a kiss.

* * *

- _Pegmeister. Pepper wants to meet the lovebirds. Bring them to the conference room as ASAP as possible._

_-Are you sure?? Barnes isn’t good at public speaking._

_-The kid with the skinny black jeans? I’m shocked._

* * *

Bucky and Steve take the elevator up to the top floor. The silence is unnerving. Bucky avoids his own eyes in the mirrored walls.

“I miss when they played music,” Steve comments.

“That was before we were born, grandpa.”

“I still miss it.”

The digital panel says they’re ten floors away. Bucky looks at Steve. “You do all the talking.”

Steve laughs. “Yeah. I figured that out on my own.”

They step out of the elevator onto a carpet considerably nicer than that of the floors below. Everything is glass and chrome and pale blue. The light fixtures look like Bucky’s toaster.

“Should we hold hands?” Bucky whispers to Steve as they walk.

“My hand is too sweaty.”

“Ew.”

“Shut up.”

They see the board before the board sees them, because of the glass walls. Tony is the first one to spot them, waving cheerily. The rest of the board turns as Steve walks into the room, closely followed by Bucky. But not too closely. Don’t want to rub their faces in it.

“Cap’n. Good to see you. And Mr Barnes. Nice shade of hoodie today.”

Bucky looks down at his navy hoodie, suddenly self-conscious.

Steve nods courteously. “Tony.”

“You must be Steve.” An impeccably dressed woman with strawberry-blonde hair stands to shake Steve’s hand. “And James.” She extends her hand towards Bucky, and he shakes it. Her hands are very soft. Rich people’s hands always are.

“My name is Pepper. Please, sit.” She gestures towards the empty chairs around the table. They sit, and Bucky wants to take Steve’s hand after all, but the table is transparent.

“So, tell me about your relationship.”

“Uh.” Steve swallows, looks around at all the eyes on him. “What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start at the beginning.”

“Okay.” Steve sits up straighter and glances at Bucky before saying, “Well, the first time we met it was like, immediate. I kind of just… we had this kind of chemistry I’d never felt before. And when he told me that our relationship would be grounds for termination, that was… disappointing. So we tried to be friends, but I couldn’t handle that, so I told him I didn’t want to be his friend. A few months after that, we tried to be friends again. It didn’t work that time, either, so we… got together. For a little while. But Bucky – uh James, couldn’t handle the secrecy. So we broke up. Then I started seeing someone else. So we tried to be friends again. But I think we just…” He looks at Bucky again, keeps looking at him.

“I think we just realised we couldn’t handle anything that wasn’t being together. So, here we are.”

“And when did you realise this?”

“This morning.”

Pepper raises her eyebrows and Tony snorts.

“Short notice,” Pepper says.

Steve shrugs. “Just kinda happened. When you know, you know.”

“Mr Barnes? Do you have anything to add?”

Bucky shakes his head, but this makes Pepper frown slightly, and he’s incredibly nervous about pleasing her, so he starts rambling: “Just that I, uh. I love him. So much. And if you’re going to fire us, don’t blame Steve. It was all me. All that stuff – I was the one who couldn’t handle most of it. I’m the one who said we should come and tell you guys about us. So. Blame me.”

It only seems fair to Bucky that after almost a year of Steve being the strong one, he should be the one to finally do something.

Steve opens his mouth to protest, but Pepper holds up a hand. “That’s fine.” She looks to Tony before the others. “Shall we vote?”

Steve takes Bucky’s hand.

“With them in the room?” asks an elderly member of the board.

“Why not? It’s their future.”

“I think what number two is trying to say is he wants to vote to fire them, and doesn’t want them to see,” says Tony, shooting a wink at Steve. Steve narrows his eyes in response.

“Oh, come on, Michael,” Pepper chastises. “If you’re making a decision, stand by it.”

Michael nods. “Alright. Let’s vote.”

Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand.

“All those who vote to terminate the parties involved, say aye.”

Michael and another man say ‘aye’.

“All those who vote to keep the parties involved in Stark Studios employ, say aye.”

Stark and two others say ‘aye’.

Pepper says, after a moment, “Aye.”

Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand harder. Steve whispers, “Ow.”

“Well, congratulations,” Pepper says, standing and smoothing down her dress. “You have jobs. I trust you’ll be available if we need you for press conferences?”

“Yes,” Steve says quickly before Bucky can react. “As many as you need.”

Pepper gives them a nod. “Until next time,” she says to the board, and walks out. Tony shoots them a quick “congrats, invite me to the wedding” before following after her. The board members trickle out slowly, picking up briefcases and suit jackets.

Bucky and Steve wait until they’re alone before looking at each other.

“Oh my god,” Bucky says.

“I know,” Steve says.

“Like. Oh my god.”

“I know.”

Bucky just shakes his head. “I’m. Just. Wow.”

“Yeah."

 _“Wow._ ”

“Yeah.”

“It’s over.”

“Yeah.”

Bucky laughs. “It’s over.”

Steve smiles. “It’s over.”

Bucky lets it flood his system. Without realising it, he’d been holding back all the thoughts of the future, guarding himself, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it’s real. It’s over. And it all hits him at once.

He and Steve will move in together. He and Steve will get married. He and Steve will adopt a puppy and grow old together. He and Steve will talk about having children and Bucky will convince Steve that they’re useless and dogs are better anyway. Steve will probably argue a lot and they will almost break up but then they won’t.

They have a future. A real future.

“So,” Steve says as he slides a hand up into Bucky’s hair, scratches at the bottom of his scalp. “When do you wanna move in?”


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the final chapter. I am very very sad about it. I will miss these nerds and their made up TV show and their angst. Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed - I really appreciate it, especially as this was my first fic in a looong time and my first ever Steve/Bucky. I'll definitely be writing more in the future - probably really soon to fill the void that opened up immediately after I finished writing this. I love you all xox
> 
> special shout out to my bff and beta forevershippingjohnlock. forever being perfect. xx

**A month later**

Standing in the empty room, Maria pouts. “I was just getting used to having you around. It’s nice to live with someone and not secretly think they’re a pervert.”

Bucky leans against the doorframe. “How do you know I’m not a pervert?”

“You’re right. I don’t know that. Get out of here, perv.”

Bucky loads the last of his stuff into his car and hands Maria his key. “Thanks for bein’ my roommate. See you at work?”

“Of course.”

She gives Bucky a quick, awkward hug before taking off for her evening 5k. Bucky watches her go and shakes his head at the things some people subject themselves to.

He looks up at the apartment building. It’s shitty and far away from his workplace, but it was his first real time living alone. His and Natasha’s bachelor pad. Maria told him he can come around any time if he feels sentimental, and he thinks he might take her up on that.

“Come on,” Steve says, leaning out the car window in his white t-shirt and fancy sunglasses. “I’m tired of not living with you. This extra key is burning a hole in my hand.”

“Better put it down. I’m not gonna love you anymore if you have a weird hole in your hand.”

Bucky gets behind the wheel and drives to Steve’s place, trying to remember the route this time instead of forgetting a turn as soon as he makes it. He parks the car in the lot behind Steve’s apartment building and looks at the four – count ‘em, four – boxes of his belongings.

“You have no stuff,” Steve comments.

“That is correct.”

“Why do you have no stuff?”

Bucky shrugs. “I’m lazy. I wear like three shirts.”

They grab a box under each arm and take the elevator up to Steve’s apartment. Bucky considers how much stuff he has. He knows that he has like three shirts because he’s always been poor and he doesn’t have any furniture because it all came with the apartment. He knows that and when he thinks about that and looks at Steve it makes him feel shameful. The thing about growing up without money is you always feel uncomfortable around rich people. That never goes away.

Bucky reminds himself that Steve has just been in the business for a season longer than he has. That Steve was a sick kid in Brooklyn who threw up on the Cyclone and stuck up for kids bigger than him.

His brief class crisis passes. Just because the carpet is white doesn’t mean he can’t live here.

He can just buy more stuff later.

“I love you,” Steve reminds him, looking at Bucky as he tears the tape off a box and starts to unpack.

“You wait until you see my Star Trek shirt.”

The board meeting had changed everything. Once they’d decided to keep Steve and Bucky on, there was really no justifiable reason to keep the dating policy in place, so it was disbanded the next day. Since then, fifteen actor-writer relationships have cropped up in Stark Studios.

Tony couldn’t be happier about it, saying, “When my employees are getting laid, morale is up, which means less paperwork for me. So, get busy!”

The next day, it had leaked on social media, because of course it had. _Steve Rogers in Illicit Workplace Relationship – With a WRITER??_ Bucky couldn’t believe that a writer had written that headline. Way to play yourself.

Steve hadn’t bothered to call the websites and complain, just sat back a beer and watched the headlines roll in. They identified Bucky as the dark haired hunchback from the grainy restaurant photo. They background checked him – _James Barnes is also from Brooklyn; how long has this relationship been going on?_ They followed Steve around and snapped photos of them together – Bucky tried not to look at those, because he looked so small next to Steve. One time he snapped and flipped off the cameras. Steve made that photo his phone wallpaper.

Pepper had asked them to come to a press conference, and they’d agreed, because she made them. They watched the footage back one night with a bottle of wine, and then a second bottle of wine, because Steve looked like a golden god and Bucky looked like a tiny emo twink in a dirty hoodie. Steve had answered all the questions: “No, we didn’t know each other in Brooklyn. No, this didn’t affect our work. Yes, Bucky is really his name.” At one point a question had been directed to Bucky – “How did this affect how you wrote the Cap character?” and Bucky had tried to say something intelligent and instead started choking. Steve slapped him on the back and answered the question instead: “It didn’t. Please don’t ask Bucky questions directly. He’s not good at public speaking.”

Bucky hears a door open and looks over. Steve is putting Bucky’s stuff in the closet. Putting his shirts on hangers and folding up his pants. He picks up the hoodies and frowns at them, like he doesn’t know how you’re supposed to tidy something like that away.

“Just dump those on the floor, that’s what I usually do.”

Steve rolls his eyes and puts the hoodies on hangers, too. When all the stuff is gone from the boxes, Steve pulls Bucky onto the bed with him and slings an arm across Bucky’s chest. They gaze at each other, and then at the ceiling, thinking about how normal this moment is right now.

Bucky thinks about how supposes, when he thinks about it, he’s always thought the meaning of life was honesty. How lying to himself and lying to the people around him about his and Steve’s relationship always made him uncomfortable. About how nothing felt right except being able to kiss Steve and tell him he loves him without having to look away afterwards.

Everything is going to be okay because he never has to lie again.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I don’t like the wallpaper.”

“Hey.”

“What? I’m being honest.”

* * *

**Two months later**

“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I’m so sorry.”

“For fuck’s sake, Steve, just take it out and put it in again.”

Steve undoes Bucky’s bow tie and tries for the fourth time to do it properly. Bucky wishes he could have just worn a normal tie, but Maid of Honour duties prevent him from doing so. According to Natasha. Who wants him to suffer.

“There.” Steve steps back and admires his work. “Damn. You look good.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, walking up to the full length mirror, perched against the wall of their hotel room. It’s one of those weddings where the guest rooms are right upstairs. Bucky looks forwards to watching lots of his friends have drunk sex that they regret.

“Damn,” Bucky breathes at his own reflection. “I do look good.”

And he does. His brown hair, now almost at his chin, is tidy for once, and the tux makes him look like an upstanding member of society. A hot one.

Steve comes up behind him, wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist, snaking over his cummerbund. “You know, tradition suggests that the Maid of Honour and Best Man go home together…”

“What tradition?”

Steve shrugs. “The Bible?”

There’s a knock at the door, and Sam’s head pokes round the door, with his hand covering his eyes. “Hey. Everything okay in here?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, withdrawing from Bucky and putting his hands on his hips in fatherly concern. “Why are you covering your eyes?”

“I’m not meant to see the Best Man on my wedding day.”

“That’s actually not –”

“No, Sam’s right,” Bucky interrupts, putting a finger to his lips and smiling at Steve. Steve rolls his eyes. “If you see the Best Man, it’s like, your friendship is ruined.”

“Right.” Sam nods behind his hand. “Anyway. Can one of you help me with this bow tie?”

Steve fumbles at it under Sam’s elbow while Bucky ducks out of the room. He listens for a few seconds outside the door, and proceeds to follow the sound of loud swearing.

He opens the door at the end of the hall to Clint tugging at the zipper of Natasha’s dress, his leg braced on the closet door. They freeze and turn to Bucky as he enters.

“Well well well,” Bucky says slowly, shaking his head, savouring the moment. “What do we have here?”

“The stupid dress won’t do up,” Natasha says, shooting a glare back at Clint.

“Don’t blame the dress!” Clint protests, giving her a scowl that matches her own, something Bucky never thought he’d see. “Blame your fat ass.”

“You mother fucker –”

“Children,” Bucky says, holding up his hands. “Please. We’re in a sacred place.”

“This is a Best Western.”

Bucky recalls the conversation between Sam and Nat: _Fine, we can get married in a hotel, but I get to choose which one._

“Continental breakfast is sacred to _me_.”

Clint lets go of the zipper and Natasha shrinks three inches. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he sighs, frowning intensely at Nat’s torso. “I made that dress with my bare hands only four weeks ago. It fit like a damn glove. Like a really awesome, really well made, incredibly expensive glove made by someone talented and handsome.”

Bucky looks at the glove in question, the floor length red lace gown with a very Natasha-esque slit down the side. It almost matches her hair.

“Was it something you ate?” Bucky asks, in all seriousness. “Like, did you have Mexican last night and now you’re bloated?”

“No. I had doughnuts for dinner last night.”

Clint laughs, and Bucky catches his eye and shakes his head: _Nope. She’s not kidding._

“Are you on your period?” Clint asks, scratching his head. “My wife gets bloated on her period. And then she gets mad at me when I point it out. And when I tell people about it.  Like I’m doing now. Don’t tell her I told you.”

Nat shakes her head, squinting at her reflection in the mirror. “No, I’m due my period…” She counts on her fingers.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“I’m due my period two weeks ago.”

There’s silence as Bucky locks eyes with Nat’s reflection. He watches her face – her eyes grow wide with terror. And then she starts to smile.

“Mazal Tov!” Clint shouts, and pulls six safety pins out of his pocket. As he fixes them to the back of the dress, Bucky murmurs, “Guess you’re joining the Black Parade after all.” At this, Nat looks positively gleeful.

* * *

“I’m told you have prepared your own vows?”

“Natasha. The first time we met you corrected one of my martial arts moves. I remember thinking it was a line, that you didn’t really know what you were doing, but you were hot, so I went with it. Since then, I have been beaten up many times, and I can safely say, you know your shit.”

Pause for audience laughter. Bucky rolls his eyes. _Actors._

“Thank you for trying to beat me up that day, and every day since.”

“Sam. You’re not my type at all. You’re not cool. You don’t have a motorcycle. You only own one leather jacket, and it’s a replica of the one from the _Thriller_ video. You use three types of moisturiser and take forty-five minutes in the shower. You always try and _throw_ stuff into the trash, no matter how far away it is, no matter the thing you’re throwing and how likely it is to, uh, spill.”

She shoots a sly smile at Bucky. Bucky scowls back, horrified that she would make him remember the condom story.

“You’re a huge nerd. I honestly never thought I’d fall in love with someone who couldn’t do a backflip. But you can fit eleven marshmallows in your mouth, and I’d take that over a backflip any day.”

It might be the light, but Bucky thinks he can see Sam tearing up.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Samuel Thomas Wilson, do you take this woman as your wife?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Natasha… uh, your middle name just says ‘redacted’.”

“That’s right.”

“Natasha Romanov, do you take this man as your husband?”

“Sure.”

“You may now –”

They’re already making out against the breakfast bar. The ‘vicar’ (a guy from the hotel who’s ordained on the internet) just nods and goes to get another cocktail.

Steve stands next to Bucky, watching Sam and Nat grope each other. He sighs dreamily. “That was such a beautiful ceremony.”

“I know. Kinda makes you think.”

“About what?”

Bucky shrugs, hands in his pockets. “Just makes you think.”

“About what?” Steve presses, smiling, holding onto Bucky’s elbow as he tries to walk away. “What ya thinkin’ about, huh?”

Bucky keeps shrugging, keeps trying to walk away, starts laughing when Steve bear-hugs him and roots him to the spot. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Steve asks again, arms tight around Bucky’s chest.

“I’m thinkin’ you’ve got this Heimlich thing down.”

“Buck!”

“I’m serious. You could do this for a living. They should hire you to just sit in restaurants in case people start choking. You’d save ‘em so much money on insurance, I bet.”

“James.”

Bucky groans. “Al _right._ Put me down, asshole.”

Steve released his arms and Bucky’s heels touch the ground again. He feels briefly liberated, but soon misses the touch, so he drags Steve the few metres to the dancefloor. There’s only one other couple: Tony and Pepper, slow dancing, Tony texting behind her back.

Bucky wraps both arms around Steve’s waist and presses his lips to Steve’s neck.

Steve laughs. “I don’t think that’s how you dance.”

“I don’t know how to dance properly. I just wanna touch ya.”

Steve runs one hand into Bucky’s hair, rests the other on the small of his back, and starts swaying them back and forth to the song. “There. Now we’re doing both.”

Bucky closes his eyes, breathes in Steve’s smell of Old Spice and apple shampoo and the extra aftershave he put on to be fancy. He becomes self-conscious of his own smell, wonders how the rented tux holds up to such close quarters – but he remembers, he didn’t rent it. He bought it. Because he’s successful now. How cool is that?

Still, he won’t buy a second one any time soon. That shit’s expensive.

“You didn’t tell me what you were thinking about,” Steve says quietly.

Bucky rests his chin on Steve’s shoulder and stares down at the beige carpeted floor that Sam had tried to spruce up with rose petals. He feels warm fabric under his palms and a leg in between his own and a body against his and a cheek millimetres away.

“You’d better catch that damn bouquet.”

* * *

Nat doesn’t make it easy.

“The woman can open any jar on earth. Especially peanut butter.” Bucky leans up against the front of the building next to Sam and watches Nat find the highest ground she can. “Her arms have gotta be strong.”

“I dunno, man. She never wants to be on top.”

“Yeah, but no-one ever wants to be on top.”

Steve catches Bucky’s eye and takes off his jacket, rolls up his sleeves, and winks. Bucky blows him a kiss.

“My money’s on Maria,” says Sam. “She runs every day. Plus, she’s been single for like. Ten years.”

“Surely that means she’s _bad_ at catching bouquets.”

“Who are you betting on?”

Bucky watches Steve stretch. He loses his balance on the uneven gravel, grabbing onto Clint for support. Clint yanks his arm away and Steve lands butt-first. Clint laughs.

“Maybe betting wasn’t such a good idea.”

Sam looks smug. “Rogers is bad at sports.”

“I know. It’s ridiculous. He’s so hot.”

“And tall.”

“But he can’t fucking throw. At all.”

“Oh, I know. Trust me I know.”

“I think he could run though. I just wouldn’t bet on it.”

“That’s fair.”

Nat climbs up on a picnic table. “Alright! Who’s ready to catch some mother fuckin’ flowers!”

The small crowd at her feet hoots. Steve puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles.

“On your mark! Get read- DISTRACTION!” she shouts suddenly, pointing over to the left. All heads turn to follow her finger, and she throws the bouquet over to the right. It hurls far into the air, so far that Bucky doesn’t see it land. “GO!”

The huddle sprints off to the right. Bucky shouts, “GO STEVE!” because he’s got to be supportive or whatever. But really he knows that it doesn’t matter whether Steve actually catches it. He’s gonna ask him anyway. Of course he is.

They disappear behind a building. “With the determination Clint was showing, this could take a while,” Nat tells them, so Sam stays to referee while Bucky and Nat go back to the reception, ordering some drinks and sitting down at a table.

“Bucky’s a good name for a baby,” Bucky says, sipping his wine.

“What about, like, Thrasher?”

“Oh my god.”

“Or maybe Kevin.”

“Thrasher or Kevin. What if it’s a girl?”

“Thrasher’s a girl’s name!”

It’s been so busy lately, Bucky and Nat haven’t had a moment alone. It’s the soft, familiar silence of an old friendship. They smile at the same things.

“I love you,” Nat tells him.

“But… you’re married. We can’t…”

“I do, though.”

Bucky takes her screwdriver, which turns out to just be orange juice. “Ugh. I hate pregnant you. Emotions and no drinking? Unsubscribe.”

Nat punches his shoulder. “Tell me you love me, you dickhead. It’s my wedding day.”

“Ow! God, fine. I love you. Happy?”

“Very.”

“WE HAVE A WINNER!” Sam’s shout carries through the open front door. Nat and Bucky shoot each other a look before running out.

It’s a picture. Clint’s shirt is torn. Tony’s sunglasses are snapped. Steve has no shoes on. Maria looks like she’s got blood on her and it’s not her own.

Steve grins and holds up a single flower, salvaged from the destroyed bouquet. “Be my Valentine?”

Bucky accepts it and kisses him. “My hero.”

“I hate you,” Tony says, and trudges back inside. Bucky hears him say to Pepper, “Sorry, honey. We gotta get divorced.”

* * *

Bucky drives into the Stark Studios parking lot for the last time as a regular staff writer. Today’s the last day of filming, aka, the day of his promotion. Not that he’s been looking forwards to it for months or anything.

“So you’re like, _super_ my boss now, huh?” Steve asks as Bucky parks and they get out of the car. They’ve started playing rock-paper-scissors to see who has to drive every morning. Bucky “always chooses rock, do you love Dwayne Johnson that much??” The answer is yes.

“Yep.”

Steve wiggles his eyebrows. “Ooh. Saucy. Sleeping with my boss. Like, forbidden romance. Kinda sexy.”

“Shut _up_ oh my god.”

When he gets up to the writer’s room, they’re all there and waiting for him. It’s actually kind of creepy. Six pairs of eyes on him. That’s like, twelve different eyeballs.

“Bucky, I’m glad you’re here,” Peggy greets him, smiling widely in her red lipstick and matching red suit. Bucky knows she’s in a good mood, because she co-ordinates her colours when she’s happy.

“Hey. Did I miss anything?”

“No, we waited for you.”

Bucky sits down and Peggy pulls out the giant binder he’d seen on her desk before. She slides it towards Bucky.

“As you all know, James here is going to be the new head writer. He’s got lots of ideas and I’m very excited to see what he comes up with.”

Bucky gives a little wave.

“Now, as today is my last day, I thought I’d get you all a little something.”

She reaches under the table and pulls out a big cardboard box. Out of it she takes a red hat.

“Is that a fedora?” Bucky asks, confused.

“No, it’s a Stetson Aviatrix. Much cooler.”

She pulls out six more and passes them around. Everyone looks at her, expecting an explanation. But Peggy just cries, “Go on! Put them on!”

Bucky puts the hat on his head. He catches Maria’s eye and she gives him a sarcastic thumbs up.

“Peg, is there a reason you bought us all hats?” Bucky asks, wishing Rumlow still worked here so he’d have to wear one too.

Peggy answers his question by putting on the hat and absolutely pulling it off. His mild-mannered, inspiring, compassionate boss suddenly looks like she could kick his ass. “It’s very simple,” she says. “I needed an excuse to buy it for myself.”

* * *

_SOLDIER and CAP approach IRON MAN’s office. There’s a sign on the door that says ‘If the office is a rockin’, come a knockin’, cos I’m kinky and I like an audience.’_

_“I should tell you. I snore.”_

_“Huh?”_

_“I snore. And my breath really smells in the morning.”_

_“Why should you tell me this?”_

_“In case you want to change your mind. Because after this, there’s no going back.”  
_

_CAP takes SOLDIER’s hand._

_“I’m not changing my mind.”_

_SOLDIER knocks on the door._

Jamie knocks on the door. Tony opens it and says, “What’s up, homies?” He looks down and sees they’re holding hands and says, “God, I hope that’s for the buddy program.”

“We’re together,” Steve says, voice hard and even, unflinching. “So, we’re breaking your rule.”

“You’re damn right you are.”

“It’s a stupid rule!” Jamie cries, throwing up her metal arm. “We’re not gonna fight worse just cos we’re dating.”

“That’s not why the rule exists,” Tony says, pointing at her in genuine anger. “It exists so we stay professionals. So our personal lives don’t get tangled up in our work and what we do turns into vigilantism instead of law enforcement.”

“We won’t –”

“Are you gonna tell each other your names? Huh? Are you?”

“Well, yeah, but –”

“But what? If you do this, you’re not Captain America and the Winter Soldier. You’re Johnny Stupid and Rebecca Idiot. You can’t keep the lives separate anymore. Your whole families are gonna be put in danger, not to mention the rest of this team. Is this really something you want to do?”

Steve and Jamie look at each other. Steve frowns at her: _What do you think?_ Jamie cocks an eyebrow: _He’s got a point._ Then she shrugs. _But we can handle it._

“Yeah,” Steve says. “This is something we wanna do.”

“Well then. Get out of my apartment.”

Tony slams the door in their face.

“CUT!” Fury yells. Steve and Jamie stop holding hands and hug instead as the studio erupts in applause. “That’s a season wrap, everyone! I’ll see all of you in the new year for season three!” He ducks everyone attempting to hug him and leaves.

Sam and Steve high five. Bucky wraps his arm around Maria and gives her a noogie. The guy who plays Thor hugs Bruce and Bruce attempts to tap out.

“I can’t believe it’s over,” Steve says to Bucky as they steal from the craft table for the last time. “It’s the end of an era.”

“It’s the end of a season. We’ll be back in January.”

“Still.” Steve sniffs. “They might have redecorated by then. Someone might have gotten a haircut. Things will be _different_.”

“I hope it’s Tony.”

“What?”

“Who gets the haircut. It’s too spiky for its own good.”

They wave goodbye to Sam – they have plans to hang out with him and Nat on the weekend – and Bucky drives them home. He’s still not used to reaching out to change gear and finding Steve’s hand instead, to having someone react to how bad he is at braking. To not be able to sing as loud as he wants to his hipster indie music. But he’d rather listen to Steve sing Taylor Swift, anyway.

Bucky puts the key in the door to their apartment, still ducking ahead of Steve so he can be the one to do it, reminding himself that this is _their_ apartment and he pays rent too, so it feels less like he’s staying over at Steve’s again. It’s feeling more like his home every day, as he sleeps in Steve’s (their) bed and uses Steve’s (their) shower and puts his unhealthy food in Steve’s (their) fridge. It might feel more like home if he had some of his own stuff around. But he doesn’t have any stuff.

He takes off his shirt and throws it on the couch. It helps.

“Why did you take your shirt off?” Steve asks, his tone clearly not complaining.

Bucky shrugs. “Decoration.”

Steve fills up the kettle and flicks it on, a gesture Bucky has come to know means that he feels like staying in and making pasta for dinner. It’s only five thirty – Steve eats dinner early, and then sometimes again around nine. He has the fastest metabolism Bucky’s ever known, and he’s very jealous.

While Steve pours the boiling water over the pasta and starts adding ingredients, Bucky sits on the countertop and watches him move. How his muscles shift under his shirt, his impossibly neat hair, his freckles and his hands. Bucky waits, and – there it is. Steve smiles as he notices Bucky staring at him.

“What?”

“Nothin’. I’m just really into you.”

Steve rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to the pasta, still smiling. Bucky hops off the counter and wraps his arms around Steve’s waist, planting a kiss right where his neck turns into his back.

“Hey.”

Steve concentrates.

“Pay attention to me.”

Steve adds tomato puree to the pasta.

“Steve. Honey. Sweetheart.”

Steve adds herbs to the pasta.

“Baby.”

Steve turns off the hob. “You’re the worst. I’m so hungry.”

Bucky grins. “You can eat later.”

“I want to eat _now._ Why do you have to be horny when I’m hungry?”

Bucky shrugs, spinning Steve around by his hips so he’s pushed up against the counter he was just working on. “I dunno. Why do you have to be hungry when I’m horny?”

Steve hums an annoyed sound, frowning softly with little effort. He doesn’t have much fight in him when Bucky calls him _baby_. It’s like how Bucky gets when Steve calls him _James_. They know this about each other and manipulate it too often.

Steve takes off Bucky’s glasses, which he’s taken to wearing more often, and runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair, feeling where it ends just below his chin.

Bucky kisses him, and it’s not a big deal, and that makes him the happiest man on earth.

* * *

The next morning, Bucky opens his bleary eyes and the clock tells him it’s eleven.

He walks through to the kitchen, following the scent of brewing coffee. Steve is by the counter, standing in front of the hob, back turned to Bucky.

Bucky sits down at the island. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Steve says, before turning around and sliding a pancake onto the plate in front of Bucky. “I knew the smell would wake you up.”

“You know me too well.”

“We spend too much time together.”

“You’re right. Maybe we should have some space. I need to work on my art right now…”

Steve watches Bucky eat, but eats too, opting for pancakes instead of his usual smoothie because what the hell, they’re on hiatus. He refills Bucky’s coffee whenever it gets under half-filled and cooks him three more pancakes.

“You like takin’ care of people, huh?” Bucky muses as he collapses on the couch, incredibly full, already sleepy despite having just woken up.

“Nah. I just like takin’ care of _you,_ ” Steve says, sitting beside Bucky’s head and stroking his hair.

“Aw. That’s cute. You’re gonna be such a good husband.”

Steve’s fingers stutter in Bucky’s hair, then continue on as normal. “Oh?” Steve asks, voice disinterested.

“Yeah. I mean, you cook, you clean. You keep that ass tight.”

“Gross. Try again.”

“You’re wonderful and I wanna have your babies.”

“Closer.”

Bucky shifts his head into Steve’s lap and looks up at him. “You’re the love of my life and I’ve wanted to grow old with you since the first time you pointed those finger guns at me. I want you to be there for everything I do until I die, and then I want us to hang out in the afterlife, and if there is no afterlife, I want us to hang out in the void. I don’t believe there is anywhere I would rather be than right here, and I have to keep reminding myself that you’re in love with me, too, that it’s not a joke, because you’re the most compassionate person I’ve ever met and I love you so much.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “And?”

“And… you know.”

Steve waits.

“It’s just such a cliché,” Bucky complains.

“It’s not a cliché when it’s the thing you’re _supposed_ to say.”

Bucky sits up, crosses his legs underneath him on the couch and faces Steve. It just doesn’t seem right to say _will you marry me_. That’s what people say everywhere, the world over. That’s what people say on TV shows and in movies and books. It just doesn’t seem right, when everything about their relationship so far has been so far out of the ordinary.

So he thinks for a moment about Steve. About this wonderful man with the good heart. He thinks about how they couldn’t stay away from each other, not even for weeks, sometimes not even for hours. How Steve had been so desperate to make everything okay that he’d tricked Bucky into a date, all those months ago, and asked his permission for a kiss.

Bucky smiles delicately, holding Steve’s eyes with his own, taking Steve’s hands and making sure Steve knows the moment is special. He says softly, “Do I have your permission to be with you forever?”

Steve swallows. Bucky can hear how he’s trying not to get choked up. Steve opens his mouth to say something, but closes it and nods instead. Then he manages to say, “Yes.”

They kiss, and it’s a promise.

They kiss, and Bucky can’t stop smiling.

They kiss, and this is their lives, forever. 

* * *

 

_‘THE AVENGERS’_

_S03E01 – ‘CIVIL WAR’  
_ _WRITTEN BY JAMES BARNES_

_SCENE ONE_

_We open with CAP and SOLDIER lying in bed, asleep, arms wrapped around each other. Sunlight streams through an open window. The alarm clock sounds and CAP reaches over to silence it. He crushes it accidentally._

_“Oops.”_

_“You broke the snooze button, you bastard.”_

_SOLDIER reaches over to grab her phone from the nightstand. She scrolls through her messages._

_“Hey, check your phone. It’s all kicking off.”_

_CAP picks up his phone, too._

_“Five messages from SHIELD. Eight from Iron Man. One from Falcon that just says ‘nice’. You?”_

_“Seven from Iron Man, six from SHIELD, one from my mom. She says would you like to come for dinner on Friday.”_

_“Sure.”_

_SOLDIER and CAP put down their phones and wrap their arms around each other again. It is the picture of contentment. We can see clearly that they are very happy, that they made the right decision, that the risk was worth it._

_“Can’t we just go back to sleep?”_

_“We can’t sleep forever.”_

_“I did it for seventy years. Anything is possible.”_

_SOLDIER plants a kiss on CAP’s forehead._

_“Come on. Let’s go see what’s out there.”_


End file.
